


Of Wolves and Little Reds

by maimas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Always-a-girl!Stiles, BAMF Stiles, Comfort, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Girl!Stiles, Oblivious Stiles, Pack Bonding, Pack Cuddles, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Panic Attacks, Post Season 2, Protective Derek, Protective Stiles, Slow Burn, Strong Language, Swearing lots of swearing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, alpha pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:39:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maimas/pseuds/maimas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles was really hoping that after the whole Kanima and Gerard thing that things would go back to normal. Well, normal-ish? Whatever. It didn't. She really just needed to accept that this was her life now. Werewolves are a major pain in the ass. Especially those of the Alpha variety. Ugh.<br/>She could handle a lot of bull-shit, but really? Really? Werewolves, man. Werewolves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hazard that is Being Human

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so if there's anything I forgot to tag or warn about, let me know. There is going to be some threatening of rape/non-con, but it will not be gone into to a great extent, mostly threatening back, and why it upsets everyone. Eventually. Just an extra warning. Also, un-Beta'd, so let me know if there's a super goof pretty please.

 

Stiles slammed her fist on the steering wheel. She instantly regretted it, and let out a hissing breath in pain, “Dammit.” Taking another sharp turn, Stiles rubbed her hand along the Jeep’s dashboard, “I’m sorry, baby, I love you, I promise. I’m just having a rough day.” She was a strong believer in naming a car and treating it like a living thing. It always just felt like the right thing to do, plus, her Mom used to do that sort of thing too; Dad thought it was silly. Running with wolves, all of her experience on the internet and with SciFi in general told her that giving things a name always seemed to give that thing power, especially when the object was treated like a living breathing thing.

The Jeep skidded across the road, the wheels spinning out, “Shitshitshit, oh, come on!”

Stiles jerked the steering wheel back, regaining control of the car, never taking her foot off the gas. From her driving, it would be pretty hard to guess that she was the Sheriff’s daughter, well, if her car wasn’t the most recognizable car in town, along with Derek’s Camaro and Jackson’s Porsche, but that’s irrelevant. Thanks to some impromptu ridealongs with not only her father, but other officer’s on the Beacon Hills Police force, she knew fairly well what she was doing. Plus, she watched a tutorial on YouTube, read an article, a book, and something on Tumblr. So, she was basically an expert driver, right? Well, she thinks so, but everyone else thinks she’s just a really shitty driver with a lot of luck, which, she has to admit, is probably true. She’d rather keep that information to herself though.

Slamming her feet on the brake, together (sometimes that was necessary, her baby was old, don’t judge), she came to a skidding halt in front of the Hale house.

Clamping her hand down on her gearshift, Stiles threw it into park, yanked out her keys, and jumped out of the Jeep.

“Scott?! Derek?! I’m here!” Stiles ran up toward the Hale house. It wasn’t the burnt out husk that it used to be, not that she would ever say that out loud, OK, maybe she said it once, but it was an accident. Anyway, it was under construction now. Of course, Derek and Peter turned out to be Do-it-yourself-ers, which, honestly, very attractive, in several ways. Apparently Derek wanted to build his new Pack’s home where his old Pack was before, which, morbid much? She got that though, wanting to stay around the things and places that reminded someone of the person they lost? Yeah, she pretty much lived that. Both her and her Dad, but that’s another thing altogether. Focus, Stiles!

Storming inside the Hale house, she barreled through the main hall, passing between the main stair and the living room, all of which were already redone with fresh paint and new wood floors. There was some furniture, but no one was really sure about whether or not they were permanent.

The large “L” shaped sectional, love seat, and recliner, were all from Lydia’s basement. All of which she claimed were so out of date that it pained her to know they were still in her house, plus they were hardly used, and it would have been a waste. No one believed that, but no one was dumb enough to say anything about it.

Plus, Lydia claimed that all the furniture would need to be replaced when she decided on the designs for the house, which everyone was OK with. Even Derek, who had said he got to decide on the construction and the kitchen, which Lydia agreed to, after at least an hour of debating.

Stiles was fine with whatever they all decided on, so long as the kitchen was huge, and there was enough room for all of the Pack, which she had told Derek when he had casually brought up the idea of rebuilding the house.

Derek had brought it up at the end of the school year, when she was working on some extra research for the Pack. OK, yeah, she was a little paranoid, but she wanted to be prepared for an encounter of any kind. She needed to be prepared, how else would the Pack be able to be prepared? That was when she didn’t really consider herself Pack. When she still had some serious beef with Jackson and was much more prone to panic attacks over the whole Gerard thing, but talking about either of those things was a no go. Well, at least the Gerard thing.

Stiles shook her head. _Come on, Stiles. Focus!_

Reaching the half-remodeled kitchen, Stiles realized something wasn’t quite right. For instance, the fact that absolutely no one had answered her call when she pulled up wasn’t a particularly stellar sign.

“Guys? Anybody? If this is some bullshit prank Scott, I swear to god, I’ll put wolfsbane in ALL of your underwear. All of it!” Stiles crept around the kitchen, trying to search for some clues.

All she could find were paintbrushes, paint cans, nails, hammers, nail guns, strips of wood, pretty much all of the necessary fixings to fix up the kitchen, except for the workers of course.

Stiles rolled her lips into her mouth, feeling irked and unsure of what to do. It was highly probable that Scott had just been messing with her or overreacting to something…

“…and everyone in the Pack went missing. Yeah. That’s…” Stiles sighed.

Gulping in a breath, Stiles shoved her hand in the back pocket of her jeans, searching for her cell.

It took her all of three seconds to unlock her phone and find Scott’s text.

It took her another three seconds to realize what was wrong with his text.

“Everything’s grammatically correct,” Stiles face-palmed, “Fuuuuck.”

Hearing some quick movement behind her, Stiles jumped and twisted around. Normally she wouldn’t have noticed a gush of air coming her way, but hanging around Werewolves all the time made her take more notice to the little things. It was a double-edged sword. Kept her hyper vigilant, a little paranoid, and her mind busy with anything and everything, but it was proving to be useful.

For example, if she hadn’t taken note to the gush of air coming at her in a house with all shut windows and very nicely fixed up walls, and the fact that the hairs on the back of her neck were standing straight up, she wouldn’t have been prepared for the 200 lbs of man wolf coming straight at her.

“Oh, fu—Ouf!”

Yeah, that was definitely 200 lbs of man wolf on top of her. At least she braced herself. She could have broken something otherwise. She’d probably have some serious bruising, but that would be all from that, maybe a minor cut or two. OK, maybe a concussion, but at this point, those barely counted. She was a frequent flier with those, she had a card and got e-mails about new promotions for that shit.

Taking in a breath, she thankfully realized it was Derek on top of her, and not someone who was not-Pack. The little things, got to appreciate the little things. Letting out and taking in another breath she realized this was not one of those little things. More like one of those large things that caused blunt force trauma.

“Hey, uh, Derek? Could you…not?”

That sort of reaction usually got Derek to step off or back up. Yes, this was a thing with them sometimes. Derek wasn’t big on affection and such, but with Pack, that was kind of a necessary dealio. Given that he was Alpha, it was kind of more necessary, the whole scenting thing and the reassuring that “what was his” was in fact “his.” Which sometimes felt like complete bullshit and like he really just wanted to agitate her, because really? He had to know he was a fine piece of ass and that everyone in the history of ever was pretty much down with getting with that but oh—getting off topic. Right.

Stiles subtly coughed. Emphasis on subtle. It was super subtle, like, Batman would be jealous. Only no, not really, no. Batman would be ashamed. So much shame. Oh god, he could totally smell her too. _Shitshitshitshiiiiiiiit._

That was, unfortunately, when Stiles realized Derek was most definitely NOT moving.

“Uuuuh, you alright buddy ‘ol pal?” Stiles muttered, deciding she should probably open her eyes or whatever and search for Derek’s face, because she was definitely in chest territory, not that she was complaining or anything. Because come on. Afore mentioned hotness.

Stiles chin bumped into his chest as she looked up, searching for his face. She was most definitely beginning to get the feeling that some shit had hit the metaphorical fan. When she found his face though, he wasn’t looking at her, and she could totally tell, even from this half-assed angle, that he was wolfing-out right now. As in dangerous for small humans to be around, but whatever, that’s cool. No biggy.

Yeah, she was totally freaking the fuck out now.

“Stiles, right?”

Stiles lurched and smacked her face straight into Derek’s chest. _Fuck! That actually hurt?!_ “Ugh, uh, yes. I am Stiles, token Pack human that happens to be female,” Stiles sassed, rubbing at her nose while searching for the voice of whoever the fuck was apparently in their Pack’s house and obviously pissing off Derek because, ope, yeup, he’s definitely growling, not just mysteriously vibrating all of a sudden or whatever.

Her eyes landed on some boots out of the corner of her eye. “And who might you be, dude who is dragging some serious mud into my future kitchen?”

The man chuckled...darkly? Did that just happen? Was that a thing? Apparently Stephanie Meyer wasn’t fucking around, it’s a thing. Oh, that hurt to admit. Serious burn to the soul. She needed some fucking aloe after that.

“They were right! You are rather amusing,” the man sighed…wistfully? What in the actual fuck? _Is this serious my life right now? No kidding._

The man shuffled. Moving himself closer to Stiles and Derek, not that she could really see anything besides the man’s feet and Derek’s chest. Derek’s body tensed up some more, his growl deepening and taking on a darker and much more threatening sound.

“Oh hush up boy, I’m not even going to touch her—just introducing myself.” Stiles could hear the smile in his voice, and she honestly just wanted to slap him. _Did he seriously just call Derek "boy"? Like honestly. Has he seen an average dude? He’s aware that Derek’s like…nevermiiiiind._

The man crouched down and suddenly bright red eyes were right in Stiles line of sight. “I’m Deucalion. I’m the leader of the Alpha Pack.”

_Well, whoopty fucking doo._


	2. The Hazard that are Alphas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Pack information and all that jazz.

 

The next moment she blinked, and “Deucalion” was gone. Asshole.

It took a few extra moments before Derek calmed the fuck down enough for him to stop growling and for his chest to stop heaving like a cat that was choking on a fur ball. When he finally stood up, it was somewhat of a relief, because as incredibly attractive as Derek was, him wolfing out on top of her while she had absolutely no idea what the fuck was going, was not exactly ideal. But hey, shit happens.

Sitting up, Stiles glanced up at Derek, catching him still trying to calm down. _Seriously? What the hell?_

“You alright, Sourwolf?”

Stiles pushed herself up off the ground, dusting dirt off her jeans and red hoodie. Apparently Derek had been rolling in the woods or something? Whatever. All that mattered was that not-Pack was definitely just violating their turf, like big time. As in, she was sure Derek would be ranting and doing strutting Alpha bull shit for the next three hours at least. They really needed to figure out what that Deucalion dude’s damage was. Seriously, who just shows up at a Pack’s den like it’s no big fucking deal? He was lucky it was only her and Derek, the Pack had much less to be offended over if it was their Alpha and a token human that the guy encountered. He probably just wanted to talk to Derek now that she thought about it…

Wait, wait. Wait. Hold the fuck up. Derek hadn’t seemed…surprised, more like unsettled? He was not surprised though. He always seemed to look wounded when he was surprised, even in his half-man half-wolf state, he tended to look like he was emotionally wounded when he was surprised, not pissed off.

“Derek,” Stiles murmured, realization dawning, “What the fuck was that?”

“Not now, Stiles,” Derek shook his head, like he was still confused, and his voice sounded like he was still on the verge of wolfing out. Seriously? What is this?

“Don’t you ‘not now, Stiles me.’ What the fuck is going on?” Stiles voice cracked, she was still freaking out apparently, and now she could add pissed off on top of that.

“Wait, Stiles. Later. I promise,” Derek shoved his hands in his hair, his breaths still heaving, “Just, please, Stiles. Please.”

“You know what that was all about, and I deserve to know! I’m Pack!”

Derek’s breathing evened out, but when his eyes met Stiles’, they were still blazing red. “Stiles, please, I-I just—I need to see the rest of the Pack, and then we’ll talk.”

Stiles’ eyes narrowed, Derek was being polite. Shit really was hitting the fan, wasn’t it? Stiles closed her eyes, tried to calm her heart beat, and took a breath “Promise?” she sighed.

“Yes, promise.”

“Fine, but I’m still going to be pissed until I get some answers.”

Derek rolled his eyes and turned away from Stiles, heading back towards the main staircase.

“Wait, where’s Scott? He texted me th—OUF!”

Unlike with Derek, Stiles did not have the time to prepare herself to be knocked to the ground. Apparently she wasn’t good at noticing things around her when she was talking, oh well, she could work on that later.

“Scott, buddy, I love you and all, but you are by no means a small guy. Could you pl—UGH!” and there was Isaac.

Scott and Isaac were really bonding, almost brothers at this point, which, awesome, but also kind of annoying when the whole Werewolf bond and all that sassy jazz is thrown in too. She wasn’t jealous! That would be ridiculous. Besides, Isaac was adorable, nice to her since he stopped being a little ass muffin after Erica and Boyd returned, and really, she knew how Scott worked. Scott would never replace her. She was Scott’s best friend, and Isaac was too, they were just different kinds of best friends.

She really did appreciate Isaac though, the poor guy had really been through the ringer, and she had to adjust quickly to him too, thanks to his whole needing to touch Pack thing. That was super common with all of the Pack, every last one of them liked to somehow touch each other, from full on tackling to just brushing arms, the contact gave them reassurance and a feeling of safe, home, Pack, wolf, Alpha. Contact gave them pretty much anything that they needed in that moment in order to calm them down. Isaac tended to do it the most. Plus, it was actually super useful most of the time.

Right now though, not so much. It was more of a hindrance when this sort of thing happened, and it definitely happened more often than she had ever expected. She’d done some serious research on the behavior of plain old wolves in packs, so she figured some things would be similar-ish and apply and what-not. Well, she was right and then some apparently, because Werewolves took the whole scent thing very seriously. Everyone in the Pack had to smell like Pack, basically meaning each other, but most importantly, like Derek, which presented some obvious difficulties. So, the Pack mostly had to settle for smelling like each other, but if Derek joined in on a cuddle puddle? Holy crap, every last one of the pups were pleased for at least the next 24 hours. It was bizarre and incredibly adorable. Anyway, getting sidetracked.

The problem that popped up with all that was that because Stiles was in fact HUMAN, the scent of Werewolf faded much more quickly than it did the others for obvious reasons.  Even amongst the humans of the Pack, the scent of Pack faded quickly on her, or so she assumed. Why else would she be touched the most out of everyone in the Pack?

She figured her losing her scent the quickest had to do with the fact that the other’s all seemed to have a cuddle buddy. Lydia and Jackson were still an item, meaning they were still sleeping together, and therefore she would often be covered in Jackson smell. Then there was Allison and Scott, so that covered them. Leaving her and Danny? Well, Danny wasn’t technically Pack yet, but with how hard Jackson was pushing for that to happen, it would be sooner rather than later.

Then there was Erica and Boyd with their awkward sort of together but not really at the same time dealio thing going on up in there for them. Plus, Isaac lived with Derek and Peter, so he was good too, even if he wasn’t sleeping in their beds.

Or, at least Stiles figured that was the reasoning. It could be just as simple as the scent just didn’t stick to her as well because of how human she was, or because she needed to have a certain scent, or some other mojo. Basically she assumed it was a sort of simple explanation, but was still open to weird ideas, because this was her life, and weird shit happened.

Like that Deucalion dude showing up. _Wait a second._

“Guys,” she groaned, “I love you and all that, but could you not? Derek already threw me to the ground once today. This is all overkill at this point.”

Isaac’s muffled whining suddenly stopped, and Scott’s rushed questioning picked up where he left off.

“What do you mean? Why? What happened? We just got here.” Scott fired off, picking himself up off Stiles, and pulling Isaac and Stiles up after him. “Something smelt wrong, so Isaac and I ran in.”

“YEAH, that was probably beca—Wait one hot second there bub. You just got here?” Stiles looked to Scott incredulously and busied herself with once AGAIN dusting herself off from landing on the floor of the half-finished kitchen.

“Uh, yeah, that’s what I just said?”

Stiles’ shoulders slumped. “Fuuuuck.”

“What?” Isaac stepped forward, tuning in on the feelings of nervousness and general “not this shit again” coming off of Stiles.

“Scott, did you happen to lose your phone? Again?”

“Uh, why?”

“Son of a shit.”

Stiles shook her head and looked to Derek. “I came here because I got a text from Scott telling me there was an emergency, but if he wasn’t even here…”

Derek shoved his hands through his hair again and sighed. “Scott, Isaac, call the rest of the Pack that isn’t already on their way here, we need to talk.”

The two nodded and headed outside, but not before hesitating and looking in between Derek and Stiles. The two only left after getting a nod from both Stiles and Derek.

“So, two questions, why were they around here? And, exactly how fucked are we?”

Derek huffed and walked away from Stiles, towards the living room, she could hear him kick the chair and then throw himself down on one of them, she assumed it was the loveseat; he seemed to be partial to it.

Stiles sighed and followed after him, “I feel like this is going to be all kinds of suck.” Derek snorted; it could almost pass as a laugh. “Oh, we really are fucked if you laughed at that!”

Stiles sagged into the couch, letting the cushions eat her up. It was so comfortable. Like, heavenly comfortable. Especially since she had woke up in the middle of the damn night to deal with this hot mess.

She was so lucky her Dad had the night shift tonight.

At least there was that perk.

Stiles scrubbed her hands against her face, now was not the time to be drowsy!

“Sleep.”

“If I sleep now, I won’t get back up for another eight hours at least.”

“I’ll wake you up when they all get here,” Derek murmured from his stiff position in the loveseat, staring straight at her. It used to feel disconcerting when he did that sort of thing. He was always so intense, about everything. Stiles bet he was even intense about baking cupcakes, or pissing. Ok, now that was really funny looking in her head. Her mind had to skirt right on over that or she’d laugh aloud, and Derek would probably think she was mildly hysterical from the whole whatever the fuck it was that happened earlier. Which, she was not. Nope. She was fine. She just had questions. Several questions.

Anyway, Derek’s serious intense face was kind of comforting in a way, it meant business was as usual, or, that at least he wasn’t freaking out. Because, if Derek was freaking, then everyone else should start shitting themselves, ‘cause bitches gonna die.

Stiles opened her mouth to object to his suggestion again, and ask for him to explain what the hell was going on instead, but Derek cut her off with a defeated look. “We’ll get to that when the Pack shows up.”

Stiles feigned surprise. “Be still my beatin’ heart, do my ears deceive me? Is Derek Hale going to actually tell his Pack what the actual fuck is going on?”

Derek through a withering glare at her, but it tapered off. He really looked exhausted now that she thought about it…

“What happened to you? You look like shit.”

Derek sighed again. “I’ll explain when they all get here.”

Stiles let out a huff and grumbled a few choice words before angrily snuggling into the couch cushions. Muttering about Sourwolves and mud.

When everyone finally showed up, only ten minutes, tops, after Derek had asked Scott and Isaac to call the Pack, Stiles startled from her light nap on the couch and fell to the floor.

“Gah! Fu—Son of a biscuit!”

The deep and rich familiar laughs of both Boyd and Erica came from behind her, likely because they had in fact shoved her off the couch.

“Fuckers. I am so nice to you, and this is how you repay me,” Stiles muttered, rubbing her butt as she searched for another spot to sit, preferably NOT on the floor or someone’s lap. Well, if anyone was offering…

Stiles walked over to Derek, seeing that the large sectional was full with Boyd, Erica, Jackson, and Lydia, the recliner had Scott and Allison on it, Peter was, well who the fuck cared that Peter was standing behind the sectional, not Stiles, that’s who, and Isaac was on the floor at Derek’s side. Sometimes, he was so loyal and adorable it hurt. Seriously.

Stiles motioned with a wave for Derek to scooch on over, but when nothing happened she just sat down next to him. She was really past the point of caring, and sitting next to him would stave off the whole “Stiles, we need to scent you” bull shit for at least two days.

Attempting to settle in for what was sure to be a loooong Pack meeting, Stiles put her back to the arm of the chair, so she was facing Derek and the rest of the Pack, and her back was to the wall where there were the beginnings of a fireplace. Feeling like all fucks to be given were lost, Stiles kicked off her shoes and shoved her sock covered feet under Derek’s leg.

For a moment, he looked mildly alarmed or maybe it was confused, but Stiles just gave him her “yeah, that really just happened, what’cha gonna do about it?” look, and he returned his attention to the Pack.

_Score for the Home team. Awe yeah Stiles, you got some mad skills._

“Alright, now that everyone’s here and wake,” Derek leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he brought his hands together in a solemn sort of way, “there’re some things that I haven’t told you guys yet.”

That got everyone’s attention, everyone but Peter was asking questions, worried that it was something to do with being Bitten or Pack information he had left out. They honestly hadn’t had all that much together time.

School had officially been out for the summer for two and a half weeks. Everyone was busy doing their own thing and adjusting to not worrying over school and the latest supernatural issue. Derek had been training the Pack though. Erica and Boyd had come back two weeks ago, but they had been keeping to themselves about that. They had talked to Derek when they came home, and he had told the rest of the Pack to leave them alone and not ask questions, saying they would talk when they were ready.

“Is this about…?” Isaac trailed off, looking up to Derek. Erica and Boyd tensed up.

“Yes. We have a problem.”

Stiles groaned.


	3. The Hazard that is Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pack dynamics! And some feels.

 

For the next half hour, Derek explained how there was another Pack in town that was going to try and not only take their land, but get him to join their Pack. Apparently that’s what this Pack did, they collected Alphas, and proved themselves to be the best of the best in Werewolves, which felt like a load of bullshit to Stiles. Was this really how shit worked in the world of Werewolves? Somehow, she doubted that, and told Derek so.

Derek had replied with a curt, “You’re human, you wouldn’t understand,” and apparently he felt that was enough of an explanation. What made it worse was that the rest of the wolves seemed to agree with him.

He said that the Alpha Pack did this sort of things with new and weaker packs, and had never been a problem with the Hale Pack, so he only had heresay to go on as to what their operation was. Which was another bonus. Stiles would now not be sleeping tonight, because she had to now figure out as much as she possibly could about this new pack that was encroaching on their territory.

From then on, it was a bunch of “stay together,” “look-out for each other,” and “we’ll train for this” bullshit. Stiles could feel that Derek was leaving out information, it was itching at her under her skin.

“What aren’t you telling us?”

Derek sighed and glared at Stiles in contempt. _I fucking knew it._ It was always good to be direct in her questions with Derek in front of the Pack, mostly because they knew if he was lying and would call him out on it, but partly because it was an obvious challenge to his authority, which made it fun.

“There…will be consequences if we lose.”

Everyone just stared at him blankly. Losing their Alpha wasn’t a consequence? At this point they were all figuring that it was just some sort of test that new packs went through in order to prove themselves as a Pack and as Werewolves. Well, they were half right.

“What kind of consequences?” Lydia drawled, still casually leaning against Jackson and analyzing her nails, as if what was going on in front of her wasn’t making her incredibly nervous and her mind was not going through hundreds of possibilities at once. Stiles could feel it. She knew that Lydia was already thinking of everything, how it could affect the Pack, how it could affect Jackson and herself, and what the worst possible outcomes could possibly be.

Anybody else besides Lydia with that many coherent and separate thoughts going on inside their mind would be on the verge of a meltdown, well, besides Stiles and maybe Peter.

“Along with taking an Alpha into their Pack, they will take the humans and the submissive wolves, and will do whatever they please with them.”

Half the Pack flinched.

Stiles choked. “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. They’ll take what?”

“They’ll take what they have claim to.” Derek growled, his voice edging towards the beginnings of his Alpha voice.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me! What is this bullshit?!” Stiles jumped up and started pacing, and began to babble. Panicking over who would be taken and who would be killed.

In Werewolf hierarchy, there were three kinds of wolves, Alpha, Beta, and Omega wolves. That was where a wolves standing in the Pack was determined, and was represented in their eye color. There was also a way of determining each type of wolf in these categories into three general types. Submissive, dominant, and neutral. A dominant was more likely to become an Alpha, a dominant was likely to be the Alpha’s second, a dominant was hard to disobey or even look away from, and a dominant had the urge to protect. This was mostly only true for Weres, but even humans could feel similar around dominants, just to a lesser extent. Submissive wolves were just that, submissive. They listened, they helped protect the Pack, and they were protected. The relationship between these two types of wolves is what made a pack work. Then there were neutrals, who essentially did not feel the need to obey or be obeyed, which pretty much defined the other to categories. Neutrals are rare, even in humans, and in packs are protected. They’re that extra piece that makes things works perfectly. Makes the go between dominants and submissives work more efficiently. Neutrals made them all feel calm and safe even though they weren’t the Alpha. Or at least Stiles had learned from the few books Peter and Deaton were able to offer her on Werewolves on short notice.

When she had looked into the basic psychology of dominant and submissive, it was easy to decipher who was what and how this sort of thing was inherent in all creatures, even humans. It was just harder to be aware of it as a human thanks to not having a need to know where your place was in everything. Which, apparently was important for Weres. They always had to know where they stood in the Pack and if they could challenge somebody in order for that to change.

Yeah, that challenge part was easy to pick up on from how Jackson and Scott had acted for the first week of training. Ugh.

Stiles tried to work it out in her head. They’d take the humans: Lydia, Allison, and maybe Danny. They’d take the submissives: Isaac and Boyd. Then they’d kill the rest. Scott, Jackson, Peter, Erica, and Derek were all dominants. She honestly wasn’t sure what Boyd was, but she suspected he was more neutral than submissive, but that sort of thing was really hard to tell. If they could, they’d take Derek. And if they figured out Lydia was bitten and immune, they’d kill her. They’d kill Allison too if they even heard her last name.

“Oh my god, we’re all gonna die,” Stiles blanched, halting her pacing and turning straight towards the Pack who had been staring at her the entire time.

“I said all of that out loud, didn’t I.”

No one needed to answer, it was pretty clear that they had, but Scott still answered with a strangled “Yep.”

Stiles sighed and just got up and left.

Jackson stood up to try and go after her, but Derek put up a hand. “No, let her go. She needs to.” The order was clear, but Jackson still hesitated, his muscles bunching as he fought the order from his Alpha that told him to sit with the Pack bond that told him to comfort Stiles.

Stiles glanced back at Jackson, not really all that surprised that this had been his automatic response. He had shown signs of having issues with authority, or at least with Derek’s, and he for some reason had a need to comfort anyone in the Pack when they were in any form of distress. Shocking? Entirely. She was fairly certain it had to do with him being Derek’s second.

Trying not to think of how odd that was, Stiles shook her head at Jackson, trying to keep him from getting in trouble with Derek. “I’m fine, I just…” Stiles’ fists clenched, “I need to think.”

That seemed to be enough for Jackson, because he nodded and returned to his seat, his expression guarded.

Stiles nodded to the others stiffly and walked out to her car.

Even though she nodded to them all and let them know she was OK, she could still hear when Derek had to grab at Isaac to keep him from going after her. It made her twinge, because she understood what they felt they needed to do. She was Pack and she was upset, but she was more upset over the fact that none of them seemed to contemplating how horribly wrong this could go for all of them besides herself and Lydia.

They all trusted it would work out, and that was probably what scared Stiles the most. Her life was a testament to the fact that just because you thought something would work out, did not mean it would. In fact, thinking something would work out was usually a sure fire way for things to go horribly awry.

 

By the time she was pulling into her driveway, Stiles had realized three things, her father was still not home, Derek had NOT explained in no specific terms what had actually happened earlier, and she was working herself up into a panic attack. The panic was creeping up on her. On second thought, maybe it was good that her father wasn’t home just yet, for more than one reason.

Stiles stumbled out of the car and slammed the door behind her. Normally she would have been worried about her neighbors, but it was already 2 AM, they could do no damage at this point. She moved quickly into the house, marginally worried about the other pack that was likely in town already and figuring out where everyone in the Pack lived, but mostly wanting to just be in her room already. If she could get to her room, she could at least have a nervous breakdown in private.

She opened the from door with a swing, she had forgotten to lock it in her rush, it was close to two hours ago, but at the time she had thought that the scariest thing around for miles was a pleased Peter or a pissed off Derek. Now she knew better, and immediately locked the door behind herself.

“I just need to get to my room. I can freak out, then once I calm down, I can have some Red Bull, then focus and get some serious research done about all this bullshit.”

When Stiles finally go to her room at the end of the hallway after struggling up the staircase though, all she could think about was how her Pack was in danger, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Within moments her panic attack was setting in. In all her life, no two panic attacks had ever been the same, they were funny like that. Some lasted for hours, some lasted for only a few seconds. Sometimes they weren’t all that bad, just some deep breathing and dilated eyes. Sometimes she was so over stimulated by all the thoughts running through her head, her eyes being so wide open to absorb everything possible, and her breathing so short and deep that it felt like her lungs were ready to expand straight out of her chest. Her heart rate was always a constant during a panic attack, well, if you could call something so erratic that it was difficult to follow let alone process. Still, it was something to try and focus on if she could focus on anything other than the feelings of helplessness and general “FUCK” that were storming in her mind. It was something that no matter what would control itself, she had no way of manipulating it.

The worst thing though, was when the attack would be so bad that she would stumble into a migraine that lasted hours. And her migraines weren’t the, I-can-still-move-about-and-function-as-a-human kind. They were the throbbing body pain that eventually turned numb to the point that she would go blind and couldn’t even feel her face.

Yeah. Stiles’ brain was full of all kinds of fun tricks.

From holding this panic attack off since she realized what would be coming down on the Pack, Stiles could tell that this attack would be one of the worst kinds. Where it grew to the point of sobbing and dry-heaving and then evolved into a full-blown, coma inducing, migraine.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Stiles groaned, stripping down and crawling into her bed.

She knew this was the best way to ride this out. Make it so she could pass out at some point and hopefully get comfortable…eventually.

She only got as far as removing her shoes, belt, and pants. It would have to do, because she was already at full blown panic. Stiles fell into her bed and curled into the fetal position, sometimes it helped surprisingly enough. All she could do now was ride it out by herself in the dark.

Hey, at least there was a plus side. Her Dad wasn’t home for the beginning struggle to find a safe place, which was the loudest part. He wouldn’t hear any of it from here on out, no matter what time he came home. It was a trick of the trade, one she had learned after one too many times of her father walking in her room to find her freaking out over her mother and all kinds of awkward ensuing. Recently, it had become more useful, but whatever, now she had a chance to perfect it or something.

Most of it was just alternating between writhing and going stiff in the fetal position, well, at least until the migraine showed up, that was a whole different kind of monster.

By that point, Stiles was so out of it that it nearly scared the living crap out of her when someone touched her back in between her shoulder blades.

“F-fuck! Wha-what the hell?!” Stiles tried to roll over, but she was held in place, and she really didn’t fight it. She was exhausted, and chances were it was either her father our someone in the Pack.

She could feel the bed dip, but only barely registered it, until she felt someone circle their arms around her and bring her into their chest. Yeup. Not her Dad.

“Der-derek?”

He nodded, his cheek rubbing against her ear.

“Wh-what a-are you—?”

“I came by to check up on you. I was going to let you ask your questions if you were awake…but given the circumstances…”

“Just come b-back to—ugh, fuck—tomorrow morning. I’ll b-be coherent then.” Stiles winced, curling in on herself. She could feel the pressure in her skull building to the point that there was pressure on her jaw, making her face go numb. Fuck.

“Y-ye-yeah. Y-you shou-ld come b-ba-ack later.”

Derek didn’t respond, which Stiles took as him defiantly replying “No.”

“Ugh, this is—fuck—so-ome kind of A-alpha bull shi-t isn’t it?”

Again, Derek didn’t reply, just remained still.

“Fi-fine, whatever. J-just do-don’t be h-here when my Dad sh-shows up.”

Derek was quiet for a while, waiting for Stiles to fall asleep. He knew exactly what Stiles’ problem was, Laura used to get stress migraines after the fire. She was just like Stiles though, didn’t like handouts and liked to fight her own battles. Still, he always did what he could, and waited until she fell asleep so he could take the pain away. It was the least he could do, especially since he was the cause of her pain. It was no different with Stiles, not really. Or at least that’s what he was going to tell himself for now.

Stiles slept through the night, not a single problem. No nightmares of Gerard beating her or of her Pack or Dad being in danger. Just deep and peaceful sleep.

It was going to be her last for a while.


	4. The Hazard that is Waking Early

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is all kinds of awkward.

 

The first thing Stiles noticed that morning was that her Dad wasn’t home. Well, that’s a lie. First, she noticed Derek was in her bed, and dead asleep. Then she noticed her Dad wasn’t home, because he totally would have freaked the fuck out.

Stiles immediately proceeded to shove Derek off and out of her bed.

“The hell, bro?!”

Derek hit the floor with a grunt and a groan. “What the hell?” Derek tried to groggily mumbled, pulling himself up off the floor.

“Dude! Oh my god! I don’t even have pants on. What the hell Derek?!” Stiles hopped around her room, searching for some pants. “I can’t even believe this! I assume my father isn’t home, because if he is or was Derek, you’re about to be shot today.”

Derek shook his head and stumbled to his feet. “What time is it?” he mumbled, rubbing his face.

Stiles glanced at her clock, despite the fact that she’d set the alarm herself. “It’s 6AM, duh. Do you not see the bright blue numbers next to your face?”

Derek half-growled half-whined. “Who gets up this early?”

Stiles faltered. _Is Derek whining? Derek’s not a morning person? It make sense, but I donno…I don’t know what I was expecting?_ _This is hilarious._

“Wait a second. Hold up. Back up. Are you, the great, the magnificent, the enigma, Derek Hale, not a morning person? As in, you’re basically a child in the morning?”

Derek sent her a withering glare. “It is too damn early for this,” Stiles stifled a giggle. “Whatever. Your father isn’t home yet, and I’m still tired.” With that, Derek fell back onto Stiles’ bed and pulled the covers over himself.

“What the fu—you know what. It’s fine. Doesn’t matter. I need to get ready anyway.”

Derek lifted himself up slightly to meet her eyes. “And do what exactly?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I missed the part where I said that was any of your fucking business.” Stiles sassed and left her room, ignoring Derek’s snarl that tapered off into mutterings into her pillow.

Somehow, she felt like she should have felt uncomfortable at the thought of Derek sleeping in her bed like it was no big deal, and rubbing his face in her pillows, but she really couldn’t find the urge to care.

She quickly strolled into her bathroom, took a quick assessment of all her injuries, and showered. She was quick, and cleaned up the few abrasions she had along her ribs, back, and forearms, also being gentle with all the bruises she had. Old and new ones.

Werewolves, man. Werewolves. Can’t live with’em, can’t live without’em. Well, at this point. If Scott hadn’t turned our had a cure actually been a possibility, then this wouldn’t be an issue. She could’ve left all of them and taken on a normal life.

OK, not really. No. She was pretty sure, no matter what, she would have ended up in this mess. With or without Scott. She always seemed to be drawn to trouble, she had several examples from childhood to prove that alone. Plus, being the Sheriff’s daughter didn’t really help with her predisposition all that much. In fact, she was pretty sure it made it worse, if she was being honest. She would never tell anyone that though. Might give her Dad the motivation to step down, and then where would they be. He’d go crazy without that job, and she’d lose about half of her data for her search engines, as well as almost all of her leniency with the department.

At the same time though, she couldn’t help but wonder if her father would be safer with her not being involved. It’s not like he knew about all this, not yet, but it was likely inevitable at this point. She could only be lucky for so long after all. Still, with her knowing what was really going on in town, it was probably safer for him, because she could protect him. Stiles could protect her father this way, if she was vigilant, if she worked hard at it, if she gave it her all.

The fact that her father wasn’t home yet meant there was something else going on with Beacon Hills, likely along with that Deucalion dude making himself known, but hey, she could hope someone just died normally. Or that he just got sucked into paper work. Or something.

Yeah…right…sure. Yeah, that definitely didn’t happen. She’d need to call her Dad by 8AM if he wasn’t home by then to check in with him. She used to get up around then anyway, so she wouldn’t seem to be doing anything out of the ordinary, and she wouldn’t be implicating that she knew that something was up. Mostly because she had no idea what was up, just that it was something that she would research, help out with, and kill herself a little over. OK, maybe not so dramatic, but she would do whatever it took to protect her family. Both her father and her Pack.

Stiles sighed. She really needed to hop off this train of thought. Nobody liked a martyr, no matter what they said.

Stiles finished up her shower and brushed her teeth, only to realize she had made a grave mistake.

She had left her room without any clean clothes to change into. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but there was a certain Alpha Werewolf in her room. He was likely sleeping, but still. This would undoubtedly be awkward.

 

\- - - - -

Feeling resigned to her embarrassment, Stiles opened her door, ready to face this terrible experience like a man, woman, human, what the fuck ever, and found Derek to be very much asleep. The dude was breathing deeply and evenly. He was totally in REM.

_Fuck yeah!_

Moving quickly with unfaltering steps, Stiles ran to her dresser and grabbed herself some unders, a sports bra, running shorts, a crap-tastic t-shirt, and some socks. Her shoes would be downstairs somewhere. All the clothing was awkward in her hands, probably because she was also attempting to keep her towel up at the same time.

She was almost to the door when she remembered that she’d need her phone before she went out, as well as her headphones because duh. What if she got lost? What if she was needed? And who doesn’t want to listen to music while they work out? People like Derek. That’s who.

Aaaaaaand now she was imagining Derek working out. _Hell in a handbasket! Focus Stiles!_

Looking around her room, Stiles was having some serious difficulty finding her phone. It wasn’t charging at her desk on her bedside table thingy. Then where the fuck was it?

For a moment she feared that it was at Derek’s and had been knocked out of her pocket for being knocked around so much, but that thought was thrown to the side when her phone started ringing.

 ** _“If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends—”_** Stiles threw her hands in the air. “Fuck!” she hissed, searching for her phone, apparently she had left them in her pants?

 ** _“Make it last forever, friendship never ends, If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give—”_** her phone continued to sing from the far reaches of hell in her bedroom. Holy fuck did she regret the purchase and placement of that ringtone. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuckerz.

 ** _“Taking it too easy, but that’s the way it is. If you wanna be my lover, you gotta, you gotta, you gotta—”_** she honestly never realized how sexual this part of the song sounded until now. What an awkward revelation to come upon.

**_“You gotta, you gotta, slam, slam sl—”_ **

“Silence! Motherfucker!” Stiles hissed, pushing her phone to vibrate.

“Huh,” Derek murmured from above her.

Stiles winced, becoming very aware of several things. One, Derek was awake now apparently. Well, duh, how couldn’t he be. Two, her phone had apparently flown out of her pants when she tossed them, and flew under her bed-side table thing do-hicky. Three, her towel was very much askew at this point.

She could feel her ears burning, and was incredibly thankful that Lydia and Allison had convinced her to let her hair grow out past her normal pixie cut, bob, thing. _Fuuuuuuck._

“Hmm,” Derek murmured, moving around in her bed. She was really hoping he was doing the gentlemanly thing, and had turned around.

Stiles pushed herself up onto her hands and knees and came face to face with Derek. “Well, a gentleman he is not, apparently.”

Derek just smiled and kept eye contact. At least his eyes weren’t wandering and assessing her. That would be upsetting. _Oh shit, what if he did look and was like disappointed or something and showed it visibly oh fuck this is terrible._

Reaching for her towel to straighten it out and hold up some semblance of dignity, Stiles kept eye contact with Derek and ignored the fact that her face was most definitely glowing. She was basically holding all of her blood in her face at this point in time.

Everything covered and it clear that Derek hadn’t taken a peek, Stiles stood up straight grabbed her things, and marched to the doorway, and hesitated.

“That never happened. Is that clear?” her ears were roaring from the blood pushing through them. This was definitely a hit to her confidence for sure.

“Crystal.”

“Good.”

Stiles pushed her door open and made way to head down the hall.

“I won’t share that I know you have freckles and moles everywhere with anyone.” Derek called, a dangerous smirk forming on his face.

Stiles looked over her shoulder with a murderous glare. Opened her mouth to say something threatening, but only made half-sounds, before she gave up and slammed the door on a chuckling Derek Hale.

Fucker.

She’d saved that asshole various times and he couldn’t even—

“Fucking, UGH!”

Her phone vibrated in her hands, and she ignored it, knowing she needed to hurry up and get changed so she could get on with the day.

 

\- - - - -

After changing in the downstairs half-bath, Stiles took up her phone and scrolled through her texts and missed calls. All expected, seeing as she was ten minutes late at this point, and one from Derek.

**6:49AM**

**Text From:** **Derek-motherfuckin’-Hale**

**But seriously Stiles, where did all those bruises come from?**

Stiles cringed and chose to ignore that particular text and responded accordingly to the others, telling them she was on her way and would be there in ten.

For the past week and a half, Stiles, Lydia, and Allison had been working out together. Running, practicing weapons, even running drills and lifting some weights. All were pretty regular things for Stiles. Hello, female on the Lacrosse team, but still, the weapons training and the whole running thing were kind of kicking her ass. Mostly because Allison was pretty gung-ho about the weapons and Lydia was pretty gung-ho about the running, so obviously she had to keep up with both and try to be better than either of them at everything. Duh. She was, at least, better at the drills and weights. So at least she had that.

She was quickly learning to enjoy running and weapons training though. That was for sure. She loved how running could make her focus when she needed to or zone out when she needed to. It was incredibly beneficial. Plus, weapons. What wasn’t there to like about weapons. She was no Allison, but she was pretty awesome with a sledge hammer, surprisingly enough. She had just enough accuracy to hit her target, and just enough oomph behind her hits to cause some damage.

Which, was now a clearly good weapon choice if the whole things with the Alphas would turn out to be true.

Maybe she should tell Derek that they’d been practicing. Well, the humans had at least.

Stiles sighed and hopped up into her car. Turning on the engine and reversing into the street, Stiles put the car in drive to head toward the woods. Because where else would three girls practice weird shit at 6:45 in the morning?

She’d talk to Derek later and decide then. That could be future Stiles’ problem. Present Stiles had her own issues, like deciding how many laws she was going to break in order to get to their spot in ten minutes or less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all of the comments, kudos, subscriptions, and everything else so far! Thank you so much! And let me know of anything that needs correcting or any suggestions you might have. Sorry for the delay. Thank you so much!


	5. The Hazard that is Bruising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is trying to work through rising issues, and Derek is Derek.

 

Stiles’ muscles burned.

It’d been a week since Derek slept in her bed and Deucalion had popped up like the little shit he was. Now Derek had the ENTIRE Pack training together. He was planning on training the Werewolves in the Pack, and the humans were planning on taking care of themselves, but given the situation that was coming around the corner, it was obvious that had to change. Plus, it was a way to bond as a Pack and learn how to protect themselves and each other as a group. Maybe now they could actually work affectively as a group in intense and dangerous situations.

Plus, when she finally got around to talking to Derek, she had to tell him that Allison, Lydia, and herself had been practicing together in order to be useful to the Pack.

To say Derek had been pissed, was an understatement…

**Four days ago…**

Stiles was researching. Again. This time though, it was currently for her father instead of actually for the Pack. Well, if she was gonna be technical, she was illegally checking out the files that were made about the current case going on involving, of course, a suspicious death. The usual.

So, within a week it would end up being the Pack’s problem most likely. Inevitably. Which meant she was really doing this in order to protect everyone she cared about, so what other choice would she have than to break the law. Or at least, that’s what she would try to tell the court when she got fucked over some day.

OK, maybe not, because insanity was so not hot, and she already had enough trouble with her hotness level with being the Sheriff’s daughter and the one girl on the Lacrosse team. Both could make her seem scary or intimidating, unless they actually knew her, because then they knew she was just really weird and had issues, which was its own deal of not hot, but—OK, wow, super off track.

So, there was a murder. A messy, unpleasant murder, which was either a Werewolf attack or something made to look like a Werewolf attack. Awesome. That wasn’t gonna come around and bite her in the ass, in a totally not attractive or flattering way. Like someone who slept in her bed that one time probably could do in the heat of the moment of something or—What? No. Throw sticks at that line of thought, maybe a bomb or two at it. Look-out, grenade coming! Gone.

OK. So. Murder. Bloody murder, with insides spread all over the place like they were almost a meal, but the predator decided their meal was disease ridden and nas-tay, and spread it all over the fucking ground. Yeah, that’s cool. Stiles didn’t need to sleep for the next couple days. You know, N.B.D. fo’ sho.

Fuck she was sooooo going to have at least one fucking nightmare about this bullshit.

Stiles set her head in her hands for a second to take a breather. Sometimes, she realized how very very much a teenager she was dealing with shit that was much more than ANY average teenager should be handling. And, yeah, sometimes it was really awesome and made her feel special and unique and needed, and sometimes it made her feel like a fucking freak and like she was way the motherfuck out of her league. She was treading in some serious shit, OK?

Honestly, it was probably because the victim was a teenage boy. Just some boy that she was pretty much positive sat two seats away from her in her History class second semester. That wasn’t making her feel useless and helpless and very fucking human or anything.

“Stiles.”

“What?” she croaked out. She rubbed her eyes, trying to pretend she was crying a little because her eyes were tired and she hadn’t slept much, not that she was kinda fucking upset. That’d be weird. Being upset wasn’t allowed, she was Stiles.

“What?” she said more firmly, spinning around in her chair, only to com face to face with a very much pissed Derek Hale.

“Oh! Hello…there. Bud…dy.”

Derek did not look amused.

“Eh-heh. Hrm. Hi.” Stiles tried for an incredibly cheesy smile, maybe he wouldn’t eat her alive. Well maybe that would be a pleasant experience if we were talking abou—NOPE. NO. NOW IS NOT THE TIME.

_Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Don’tblushdon’tblushdon’tblush._ She could feel it spreading across her cheeks and ears. _Fuuuuuuuuuck._

“You haven’t answered any of my messages,” Derek’s eyes narrowed into a concerned glare in the way that only Derek could. He had many glares and growls. All meant different things, the trouble was knowing which was which. She had a file on her computer she was organizing them in under, but it was really taking more time than she thought it would. Seriously. He was a complicated gent.

“Stiles. Respond.”

“Uh. I was busy.” Yeah, that sounded like a question even to her ears.

Derek’s eyes narrowed further. “Where are the fucking bruises from, and what are you working on.”

Stiles stared at him for a second, trying to process that he actually didn’t know what thoughts and images were scurrying around her mind at this exact moment. “Uh…Oh! That. I kinda forgot about that…” Stiles trailed off, glancing at her computer screen again. “Well, as you can tell from the photos just over my shoulder, there has been a recent brutal murder that is definitely not the norm. So there’s that, and that’s been preoccupying me quite a lot. Also, the usual research of learning everything I can. I’ve been struggling through Medieval Latin, which is different from Classical Latin, which I learned about a month ago, but this is more what is used in anything I want to read about things that go bump in the night for some reason, so there’s that. Oh! And let us not forget figuring out what the fuck Deucalion’s damage is and what all is going on with that. That’s been fun. And I’ve been looking at ovens. I want one. A new one, but I don’t have the money for that, but I can dream dammit. I just want to beable to cook several things at once, and there’s this one oven that is actually called the Wolf, which is both hilarious and fucking majestic because they are BEAUTIFUL. I SHIT YOU NOT.”

Stiles took a breath, and realized Derek was giving her a look. Like he might respect all that she does for the Pack and is proud of her, but also doesn’t really understand how to follow everything that comes out of her mouth when she talks that way. And then the somewhat admiring look was gone. It was a really attractive expression going on there on his attractive face and she was totally gonna miss that shit. That was probably never going to ever happen again. Luckily she had a really great memory, that was only compromised when she was digesting too much information at once and too many thoughts were going through her head at the same time with their own little independent paths. Caffeine was really fucking amazing sometimes.

“Ummmm…” Stiles trailed off again, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“What about the bruises?”

Stiles cringed. She was really hoping that all of the confusing jumble of words she had let out of her mouth would have distracted him enough to realize that she hadn’t said anything about that.

“Well,” Stiles paused, choosing her words carefully, “about 25% are from Werewolves forgetting that I am very much 100% human girl over here, with the throwing and the tackling and the slamming into walls and hard surfaces, which I hold no grudges over. Another 25% are probably from just me being a bit of a klutz some times. Shit happens. The other, I’m just gonna go with 50%, is likely from…” Stiles hesitated again and decided to just rush the words out, “the training that Allison, Lydia, and I have been doing as the humans of a Werewolf Pack that gets shit storms every season of the year.”

Then Stiles waited with her eyes crinkled shut.

Luckily she didn’t have to wait long. The brooding began immediately. _Fucking Alphas. I mean seriously. Well, if we’re talking seriously th—Fuck! Wait! Dammit!_

“What?” Derek snarled. Wow, that went better than expected. She had been half afraid that he’d get super pissed and toss her into a w—Ah. There’s the wall.

Now that she was slammed up against a wall and things were all up close and personal, she really didn’t feel bad about any of what she said, because it was true. She was always tossed around like a flippin’ rag doll! Honestly! And if the humans in the Pack were going to be helpful and capable, training was going to be necessary, so you’re motherfucking welcome, Derek-motherfuckin’-Hale. One Stiles Stilinski doing some of your job for you! Ta-fucking-da!

And she definitely just said all of that aloud and not in her head!

_Fuck yeah!_

_Wait._

_…_

_Fuck!!_

Derek stared at her, looking positively wounded. How. How did a fucking Alpha Werewolf pull that look off? Even with the scruff, and the manliness, and the leather, and the dark colors, and animal magnetism! And she totally didn’t think of any of that! Nope. That was something planted in her head. Obviously she had something in her head that was making her think things. Either she was that girl in that Stephanie Meyer book or she had a serious mental disorder that was nothing to joke about. Or she was just in super-duper-fucking-denial. Whatever fits best.

“I’m sorry, you’re a great Alpha, really. You are. I’m just really stressed out and very human. And I forget that, a lot. Not really, but it becomes kind of a side thought, when it probably shouldn’t because, you know, mortality, and I’ve got a father that would be very much alone, and I really just want to stop talking now so that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. There.”

Stiles sighed and closed her eyes. Positive that Derek absolutely hated her now and that she’d be kicked out of the Pack or something. Uuuuuuuugh. She always McFuckups. Uuuuuuugh.

“I remember.”

_What the fuck are you even talking about right now Derek, I’m having an existential crisis._

Stiles sighed, “You remember what, Derek?”

“I remember how incredibly fucking human you are. I always remember. It’s something I think about all the time. You don’t realize how incredibly fragile you are, Stiles. You don’t realize how important you are to the Pack. How much I-the Pack needs you. You have no idea. And you just toss yourself into these situations all over the place where you could get fatally injured like it’s no big deal, and then you rarely even bother to tell any of us! Why am I just finding out now that you’re hurt?! Why?! I am the Alpha of this Pack. I should know if- I should know when- I should- I should- Goddammit Stiles! I can’t even think straight! You make me so fucking frustrated sometimes!”

Stiles just stared as Derek collected himself, his chest heaving and his eyes fading from red to his majestic green and back. Both colors were pretty fucking majestic, but she probably shouldn’t really feel turned on by both, or now, or what. Where did that come from. Nope. No. Look at that he’s talking again. He must have collected his hate in a little package to give to Stiles via words. OK, weird nonsense aside.

“—need you to understand that this can’t be something that happens in my Pack. I am the Alpha. I need to protect and I need to know these things. You’re—”

“—In your Pack, I know Derek, it’s OK, really. I understand. I’ll let you know next time a scrape my knee like the little five year old I am.”

Derek’s jaw looked like it was ready to pop out from all of the sudden pressure that was coming down upon it. Apparently making light of this had not been the correct course of action. Well. Noted.

Derek inhaled deeply, his nose flaring with it, and sighed.

“You. Are. Pack. Mine. All mine. You are important and need to be taken care of. Let us.”

Stiles blinked and stared and blinked again. What. Excuse me, I think I just walked into a dream or maybe a nightmare possible a movie similar to Twilight but with Werewolves. Holy crap. It could be called Moon Rise. That’d be hilarious. Oh my god, tell someone.

When the silence continued, Stiles realized that Derek wasn’t kidding or a figment of her imagination, because even there, he would have laughed by now.

“Um…OK.”

“You’re agreeing with me.”

“Yup.”

“Just like that.”

“Yes.”

Stiles thought that she should probably feel awkward from all this eye contact and physical contact, but it didn’t feel that way. If anything, it felt incredibly safe…

“Good. Then, you’re done training with Lydia and Allison.”

And then they proceeded to argue for the next forty minutes

 

Now that Stiles thought about it all, four days later and sweating her ass off in the Hale woods, she realized that they had actually stayed in really close proximity with each other throughout the entire ordeal. That was perplexing.

Huh.

But, anyway, that was how she ended up stuck training with Derek while EVERYBODY, literally everyone else in the Pack, COULD TRAIN WITH ANYONE. As long as they all practiced together and worked on what Derek said to and were Derek’s little puppets, they could all work together. But not Stiles. No. Nope. Stiles was too FRAGILE, must be Italian. Yes, that was A Christmas Story reference right there, don’t miss it.

Stiles had to train with Derek.

Muscular, majestic, sweaty, Derek.

Sure, on the first day, it seemed like a perk, but this was the third day, and she knew better. It was an unmerciful fucking distraction that made a hard thing harder. Heh. No. No penis jokes. This was serious business. She was getting her ass kicked. Royally.

_Why is this my liiiiiife._

She always seemed to end up on the ground rolling away in the dirt and grass while Derek leaped after her, slide-tackled her, or tossed her. How was this better? This didn’t feel better. This felt painful.

Stiles flipped out of the way. That’s right. Allison and Lydia taught her some stuff. When she was on her feet again, she could tell that Derek was mildly impressed. He even smiled a little.

That was when the shrieking screams started.

Fun times. Yay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking forever! I promise it was mostly because I was planning and waiting for season 3 to get under way so I had an idea of how I should aim so I don't get too far away from canon. I want this to be an alternate universe, yes, but I still want it to be similar in some aspects. Not too many. Mostly I wanted to learn more about the Alpha Pack and such.  
> Anyway! Thanks for reading!


	6. The Hazard that is Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunate things happen while training, what else.

 

Stiles and Derek froze for a millisecond before they went running towards the rest of the Pack. They hadn’t realized but as their training session progressed, the farther and farther away they moved from the Hale house and the Pack as a whole.

Stiles couldn’t help but think of all the worst possibilities, each based on who was screaming.

It was high enough that it was obviously one of the girls, leaving Allison, Lydia, and Erica as the only options. Any number of things could be wrong, but Stiles could only think of what it would mean if Lydia was screaming like that again. The kind that left anyone around with ringing ears, adrenaline running rampant through their veins, and fingertips numb with cold. It made her heart ache and squeeze. It would mean that there was possibly permanent damage, well more, from what Peter had done to her, that she was losing her mind, or that there really was a good reason for her being immune to the Bite.

Stiles really didn’t want to contemplate that. Or the idea that any of them were screaming because the Alphas had appeared. Deucalion had made it clear he wasn’t alone, what if the others wanted to announce themselves? It would be a perfect opportunity. When the Pack felt whole and safe, and like they were all working together. The idea filled her with rage, or maybe that was the adrenaline from the idea of anyone hurting her friends, her family.

As they came to the clearing that surrounded the Hale house, Stiles ran at an angle, heading for her hammer, which she had brought with her in hopes of practicing with it, which Derek had shot down like a duck during duck season. By then, Derek was already leaps ahead of her and undoubtedly in his beta form, seconds from his full wolf form. She needed to hurry up, grab her weapon, and defend her Pack.

Stiles slid across the woods’ floor, her bare calves scrappy across dirt and sticks. She’d regret it later, the keyword being later. Her Pack mattered more than a simple flesh wound of her own ever would.

She slid up to her hammer, which was thankfully exactly where she had left it, leaning up against a tree just beyond the edge of the clearing, still somewhat hidden from view, but easily accessible. She hadn’t had the forethought to leave it there on purpose in case something terrible happened. It was mostly there because she had really tried to convince Derek, a lot, for at least twenty minutes, which was saying something since they had been somewhat getting along for the past couple of days. Only really having banter between them, no actual arguments, and almost always during their training sessions together.

Apparently constantly hitting each other was really helping their relationship.

Stiles huffed at the thought and quickly grabbed her hammer.

She grabbed at its black grip and immediately swung it around her to help switch her momentum. Yeah, she had practiced a lot of shit with this thing, and she was really thinking about painting it and naming it, or even talking to Deaton about something she could use to enforce it so it could be super effective when used on creatures that go bump in the night. Because, honestly, the black and yellow blur that it was now, was really not all that threatening, well, until she slammed the head into something, then it wouldn’t be taken as lightly.

She honestly wasn’t sure how effective it would be against Werewolves in its current state, but she had to hope for the best.

She swung the hammer up, letting her right hand settle on the neck of it and her left on the grip, making it easier for her to run so she wouldn’t hit herself with her open. Yeah, she learned that one the hard way, but it made it really similar to handling a lacrosse stick at times, so that was pretty sweet.

She flat out sprinted into the clearing and skidded to a halt. She didn’t see where everyone was, and she couldn’t still hear the screaming, not anything else, and she wasn’t a Werewolf, so she couldn’t sniff her Pack out, and the scream was gone so there was no way to tell where it came from, and Derek really should’ve fucking stuck with her because, to be honest, she had a really unsettling feel about the Alphas and she really didn’t want to meet one on her own an—There’s the Pack!

Stiles tightened her grip on her hammer, almost painfully, and ran towards her Pack. They were just beyond Southeast corner of the house, roughly where her kitchen was. Why was her kitchen always involved. Why.

Stiles skidded to a halt again, somewhat grateful that she had worn her less awesome shoes and was most definitely ignoring the throbbing in her legs. Yeup, that was just adrenaline. Nothing else.

Pushing through the circle of Pack, after dropping her hammer at the edge, Stiles realized what all the commotion was.

Erica was having a seizure.

“What the fuck happened?!” Stiles shrieked, flinging herself at Erica.

No one responded, for some reason, everyone looked shell-shocked and terrified. “Guys! Come on! A little help! Scott?! Where are you dude?!”

Stiles whipped her head around the group searching for Scott, only to find him out cold a few yards away.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?!”

Stiles could feel another surge of adrenaline flood her veins. Apparently all of her friends were too shocked that a Werewolf was having a seizure to actually do anything about it. Subduing her panic, Stiles tried to remember everything someone was supposed to do when their epileptic turned Werewolf friend was having a seizure.

“OK!” Stiles fell to her knees and sat herself down near Erica’s head and started calling out directions. “Derek, B—” Stiles glanced from Derek to Boyd and saw that Boyd was very far gone and on the edge of wolfing out. “I mean Isaac. Take Boyd somewhere else right now. He can’t be here for this.”

Isaac nodded and dived at Boyd across Erica and began pulling him away, snarling and howling the whole way.

“OK! Derek, Jackson. Come here.” Immediately the two were at her side. “Jackson, to her feet, Derek, stay by me. Good, thank you. OK. Now, we are going to gently, and I mean GENTLY, move her to onto her right side. So, we’ll be rolling her towards Derek, OK, good. On three. One. Two. Three!” Stiles grunted from the effort of it. Trying to keep Erica steady and from hurting herself while trying to do so slowly was quite the effort, plus, surprisingly enough, Erica weighed more than Stiles. Mostly having to do with the fact that Erica was a solid 5’8” and Stiles was 5’4” on a good day, if she was lying outright. OK, she was closer to 5’3”! Whatever! But it’s not like anyone noticed! And holy fuck she was rambling because she was panicking! Damn!

“OK! OK! Good job! Alright. Now what.”

Stiles stared at Erica for a moment, seeing the panic on her face, but the emptiness in her eyes was incredibly disturbing. Her pupils were wide and covering the beautiful color Stiles new lay hidden beneath it. Stiles took a breath to strengthen her resolve.

“OK, I think I need to check her mouth, while I do that, Derek give me your shirt. Jackson, you too.”

Jackson made a noise to question Stiles, but Derek quickly silenced him with a growl and glowing red eyes.

Acting fast, Stiles opened Erica’s mouth to check for any blockage, finding none, she moved back quickly, kneeling just above Erica’s head. As soon as she moved back, Derek handed her both Jackson’s and his own shirts. Lifting Erica’s head, gently, Stiles wadded up the shirts and placed them atop her thighs, and then guided Erica’s head to lay atop the shirts and her thighs.

“OK,” she paused for a moment again. “Derek, gently hold her arms and hands, keep her from gutting herself, I’m not sure if she can heal in this state. Jackson, you keep her legs from jostling her about too much. If she moves too much she could flip over and end up biting off her tongue somehow. At this point, I think the best way to go about this is to let her ride it out.”

Derek and Jackson nodded, and did as they were told. Stiles just hovered above Erica, eventually deciding to run her fingers through her hair, trying to be soothing and motherly in some way. Her own mother used to do something similar when her migraines would come.

It felt like hours, but it was surely only minutes. Stiles really wasn’t sure, but the entire Pack stood there together and waited with baited breath. For some reason Stiles found this to be the scariest thing the Pack had ever dealt with. It was something that was completely out of their hands and there was no true enemy to aim for, and it really freaked her out, OK? She could feel the panic rising in her as the seizure went on, like throw up rising in her esophagus, ready to come bursting out. Her panic was just as burning and acidic as vomit.

Great. Now she wanted to throw up.

That was when Erica’s seizures stopped completely.

“Oh, thank God.” Stiles sighed out and fell forward so her forehead touched Erica’s temple.

Stiles breathed deeply and exhaled loudly, relief flooding her senses.

“Now what?”

Stiles snorted. Of course it was Jackson who asked that after she just took care of a terrible situation rather eloquently and effectively. Especially since she wasn’t really the one who would normally handle that sort of thing in general! Let alone with this group of people!

“Now, ya’ll bunch of fuckheads tell me what happened while we head to Deaton’s. Come on, and someone better grab my hammer. I’m not going back for that shit.”

Pulling herself to her feet, Stiles used Derek’s shoulder as leverage, but when she took her first step towards the cars, she stumbled and fell. “Fuck! Ow! Of fucking course! I’m never allowed to look cool!”

“Dammit, my legs must’ve fallen asleep! Sonovabitch!” Stiles continued and struggled to her feet again, stumbling once more before holding her ground. “Come on ya’ll. I know you can pick her up like a sack of potatoes, as well as Scott, so come on. Let’s get moving.”

Minutes later, she found herself in the passenger seat of Derek’s Camaro, with Boyd, Erica, and Isaac in the back, and Lydia, Jackson, and Scott following in Allison’s car. All of them moving much more faster than was legal for sure, or approved by the Police to be honest, even when they were driving. She guessed they might be able to drive faster thanks to the whole “better reflexes” and “super senses” thingys might be helpful. Whatever. At least she got to relax for a couple minutes as Isaac explained what the fuck had actually happened.

Apparently, stupidly enough, Erica and Scott had volunteered to allow Allison to try out her new weapon on them. Apparently it was supposed to be similar to the Kanima’s paralysis. It seemed like a really good idea, especially when Isaac explained that it was intended to be used on the Alphas. They just needed to know whether or not it would work on Werewolves at all, seeing as Allison was hoping to coat weapons in it to fight the Alphas.

Well, surprise! It works! Really well! Apparently Lydia had actually had some help in creating the poison. That really should’ve been the clue that it would be **super effective**! Seriously. When she walked away from the group of them, it was like they lost all ability to think logically. Except for Lydia and Peter, and despite how many problems the two had with each other, they were two peas in a pod, and both dangerously effective at all times. They always thought logically, but without a thought to how they could possibly harm others in order to reach their goals and how that actually mattered. Most of the time. Sometimes they remembered.

When Isaac finished up, Stiles sighed. Trying to think how something that was supposed to simply paralyze Scott and Erica caused Scott to lose consciousness and Erica to have a seizure. And honestly, a part of her was wondering if it would be effective towards the Alphas. And then she remembered that Scott had asthma and panicked a little that Scott could have an asthma attack or something based on what happened to Erica, but then she remembered that they were heading to Deaton’s and that he would have stuff that made sure that couldn’t happen, or end horrifically. Stiles breathed out and finally calmed down a little.

Of course, that had to be the moment that Derek looked over and finally saw her legs. His growl really should’ve been warning enough, but she was still surprised when she looked over and saw that his eyes were red.

“ _What_. **Happened**.” Why was that voice attractive? Seriously. The fact that it was attractive was mildly disturbing. Fuck.

“Uh…What?”

“ _What_. **Happened**. To. Your. **Legs**!” Derek snarled.

“What the fuck are y—HOLY FUCK. WHAT HAPPENED TO MY LEGS?” Stiles stared in horror at her legs. Yeah. Those were definitely covered in her own blood. Apparently that little slide tackle she did, that any baseball player would’ve been proud of, had been a really fucking bad idea. Half her shins and most of her calves were skinned. How the fuck does shit like this happen?!

“UM. UH. UGH. I THINK—I THINK IT HAPPENED—DAMN THAT’S A LOT OF MY OWN BLOOD— I THINK I’M GONNA PASS OUT.”

And she did. Rather unflatteringly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! And thank you to everyone who has commented, given kudos, bookmarked, and everything! Just, thank you! It really motivates me :))


	7. The Hazard that is Antiseptic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinda a fluffy chapter. Mostly because next chapter's...well you'll see.

 

Stiles came to while being carried into Deaton’s. So of course she immediately hit whoever was carrying her and tried to get down. Logic.

“Put me down! I can walk! I’m fine! I’m not a helpless damsel in distress! I just have some issues with shocking amounts of blood! And seeing needles! It’s a thing!” Stiles yelled while struggling to get Derek, of course it was Derek, why couldn’t it be Isaac that would feel safe and not at as troublesome in ways she didn’t want to think about, to set her down on the side walk out front the Vet’s.

“Shut up,” Derek snarled and readjusted Stiles so he had a better hold on her. “We’re already here, and I’ll set you down as soon as we get inside.”

Stiles let out a begrudging sigh, crossed her arms, and pouted. She may be a teenager that wanted to depend solely on herself, but she still had the emotions of a three year old when she didn’t get her way.

As soon as she passed through the doorway that Isaac happened to be holding open, she tried to get out of Derek’s arms again. “You said as soon as we got in! You sai—”

“Says the one who doesn’t know how they got their shins to be a bloody mess.”

Stiles just stared at him in shock. “Excuse me. Did you just sass me?”

“Just let him carry you Stiles.” Isaac sighed, still waiting for the two to clear the doorway.

“Where were you, man? I thought you had my back. I thought we bonded. This is the ultimate betrayal. I’ll remember this Lahey, mark my words—”

“Oh. I’m so afraid. The human is going to get me, the one who had yet to show any true skills in a situation calling for the ability to fight or wield a weapon. I can’t help but shake in my fashionable boots.” Isaac rolled his eyes, releasing the door as soon as Derek cleared it with Stiles.

“OK. For one, rude. Two, how did all of you become so sassy? Is this my fault? Have I raised you wrong? Oh god, I’m a terrible mother. Wh—”

“Stiles. Shut. Up.”

“Shutting up.” Stiles gulped, trying to ignore how it felt to have Derek gripping her thigh like that. Yeup. Definitely ignoring that. Focus on something else, anyone else. FUCK!

“Where’s Scott? And Erica? Are they OK?”

“Oh, for the love of-You know what—” that was when they burst into Deaton’s back room, where Erica was already laid out on a table, “we’re here.” And Derek tossed her onto the metal table beside Erica’s.

“OW! RUDE!”

“You’re fine.”

“No I’m not, my legs are very tender right now.”

“Maybe you should learn how to walk.”

“I wanted TO WALK! YOU MADE ME NOT WALK YOU CARRIED ME SHUT UP YOU’RE MAKING ME FEEL BAD!”

Derek growled, eyes glowing red, and that was the end of that. Her legs really actually fucking hurt, OK? She couldn’t be held accountable for her behavior.

“Whatever, assbutt.” Stiles mumbled, glancing away from Derek to see how Boyd was handling Erica right now.

“I heard that.” Derek growled. She didn’t even have to see his face to know that his eyebrows had done that dippy thing and that his eyes were still bright red. If she thought about it, it made sense. He had two pups that were knocked out, and an annoying human who was being annoying because that’s what she did most of the time. That’s what she was good for, finding things and being the side commentary, but not for long, she was going to make herself useful dammit. Even if she had to fucking die for it. This shit was happening.

“Alright Doc, how is she?”

Deaton didn’t even bother looking up or in Stiles’ general direction, “Hello Ms. Stilinski. It would seem that Allison’s weapon was efficient and it would seem that Erica is in a state in which she can easily return to full consciousness in full health, however, because I know next to nothing about Allison’s weapon, there is nothing I can do at the moment.”

Derek and Isaac immediately started pacing while Boyd stood over Erica and held her hand tightly. “Well this sucks,” Stiles snorted, trying to get more comfortable on the table.

“Indeed it does, Ms. Stilinski,” Deaton came around towards her table, positioning himself in between both Erica’s and her own tables, while halting Derek in his pacing. “Now what seems to be your ailment?”

Stiles chuckled and rubbed the back of her head. “Well, it would se—”

“WHAT DID I MISS? IS EVERYONE OK?”

“Scott! Calm down!”

Everyone from Allison’s car came storming into the increasingly small room, Scott leading the way and looking frantic.

And then his eyes landed on Stiles.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO STILES? SHE WASN’T THERE. IS THIS FROM SPARRING WITH YOU?” Scott shouted, all up in Derek’s face as he spat out “you.” Stiles really felt like punching him in the face, because although it was nice to see that he was concerned about his best friend every now and again, it was still kind of annoying to see him overreact like that sometimes. It was a double edged sword for sure.

“Scott!”

Immediately his attention snapped onto Stiles.

“Down, boy.”

Isaac snorted at the dog joke, but it went unnoticed by Scott who walked towards Stiles and leaned on her table. “Stiles, what happened?” Scott suddenly sounded incredibly tired and much older than he really was.

“Scott, I slid when I ran to grab my hammer. I must have skinned my shins when I slid for it. It hurts, but I think it looks worse than it actually is. Really.”

Scott grabbed onto her leg as if to check, and Stiles had to bite back a curse, letting a hiss out in its place. As soon as wiggling black veins flitted up his arm, she kicked him off.

“Woah there buddy, none of that. I need to learn from my own mistakes for one, and I know it causes you to feel the pain too. No. Don’t give me that look—it’ll be healed in a week, calm down.”

Scott sighed and opened his mouth to speak—

“Are we just going to pretend I didn’t wake up in a different place or is someone going to actually tell me what the hell happened and why my mouth tastes the way it does?”

Scott let out an awkward cough and half the room shuffled.

“Perhaps, it would be best if all those unnecessary vacated the room?” Deaton suggested with a pointed eyebrow lift towards Derek.

“You heard him, everybody out,” Derek commanded, keeping eye contact with the good doctor.

Stiles made to get up off the table, but Derek halted her movement with a sure pat to her shoulder, “Stiles. No.”

Stiles huffed, but complied.

“Ms. Reyes, if you would be so kind as to sit yourself down on the edge here, we can quickly give you a check-up to make certain everything is as it should be, and send you on your way,” Deaton smiled, patting the middle of her table.

“Whatever you say Doctor Good-Lovin’,” Erica winked and leaned forward.

_Yeah, she’s fine_ , Stiles thought, relief filling her.

“She had a seizure Deaton, it was a side-effect of the original Kanima’s toxin, so she should be fine, but I think a check on her abilities might be necessary.”

“Thank you, Ms. Stilinski. I’ll take it from here,” Deaton sassed, not even glancing at Stiles.

She tried not to roll her eyes, she really did, but she ended up doing it anyway, only for her eyes to end up on the bane of her existence of course.

“Uh, Derek, he said all unnecessary people had to go,” Stiles smiled, bringing both her hands up to make a shooing motion.

“I’m the Alpha.”

“Thank you Captain Obvious for that news update, but I don’t see how that makes you necessary.”

Derek growled low in his throat and glared at Stiles. “Are you actually trying to piss me off?”

“Usually, yes.”

“As Alpha, it is my responsibility to oversee these sorts of things. It is my Pack that is hurt, after all.”

“Well,” Stiles began and looked pointedly over Derek’s shoulder, “It would seem that Erica is getting the go ahead from ‘Doctor Good Lovin’ I believe, so you’re all set there Fido.”

Derek didn’t react at all. Damn, he must be a joy at parties.

“I recommend you stay with Pack tonight, the healing that comes just from being near Pack would be good for you and it would be beneficial as a preventative measure in case something may occur again tonight, which I doubt, but it’s best to be prepared.” Deaton helped Erica off the table and escorted her out, giving Derek a pointed look, having noticed how he didn’t even glance at Erica, but left his focus trained on Stiles.

“I do believe, Ms. Stilinski, that you have your Alpha on edge. It would be best to look away I believe, challenging an Alpha when he has felt like his Pack has been in danger is unwise.”

Without thinking, Stiles flitted her gaze over to Deaton, her brow furrowing slightly, an unusual occurrence on her face. “What do you mean by ‘challenging’? I am human, how could that ever feel like a challenge?” Stiles tried to keep a laugh from bubbling up.

“Ms. Stilinski, no matter how you view yourself with this Pack, you are still a part of it. Which means he is still Alpha, and he still needs to be obeyed, trusted, and respected by his Pack,” Deaton said, shaking his head at Stiles. Pausing for a moment, thinking it over, Deaton looked over at Derek, seeming to have made a decision. “I think it’s time she ran with the wolves on a Full Moon.”

Derek’s eyes flared red and snapped onto the Doctor, a snarl escaping his mouth as his teeth elongated before he snapped his mouth shut and seemed to catch himself.

“Well, that seemed like a giant over-fucking-reaction if you ask me.” Stiles leaned back a bit on her table, inching away slightly. It was apparent that Derek was in a rather volatile mood…always.

“No, not necessarily.”

“Care to elaborate on that, Dr. McHotStuff.”

Deaton completely ignored the nickname, but Derek let out a low growl, that everyone else ignored. “Not particularly. In fact, I think it would be best if Derek talked to you about that—

after I take a look at you and your injuries of course.” Deaton smiled and stepped over to Stiles table.

Stiles sighed, and let Deaton work after explaining that she had slid through some dirt and sticks on the edge of the forest. Once Deaton had surveyed her injuries and went to collect supplies, Stiles had expected Derek to leave, finally, but he just moved closer to her on her other side, leaning and hovering over her.

“Um, excuse me, sir. Can I help you, it seems you have invaded this little thing callED MY PERSONAL SPACE.” Stiles snapped, waving her hands at the small space between them while leaning away.

“Seriously, dude. Could you back up?”

“No.”

“Excu—”

“Ms. Stilinski, please, just let him be. He would be more of an issue outside of this room than he will be within it.”

Stiles raised an inquiring brow. She tried to ignore the thought that whispered how similar her facial expression was to Derek’s own signature one, but it was loud enough to be distract her from the fact that Deaton completely ignored her inquisition.

Deaton completely gained her attention again though when he flushed her wounds with antiseptic.

“FU-FU-FUCK! JESUS! BE CAREFUL WITH THAT! OH MY FUCKING GOD. COULD YOU NOT. YOU KNow what. I think I could handle an infection, just leave it be, we Stilinskis can handle all kinds of shit, and this is one of those things. I think we should just rub some dirt in it and call it a day, what do you think. I think that’s a yes. What do you think, Derek?” Stiles spoke quickly, her head swinging back and forth between Derek and Deaton even faster than her words.

“Honestly, I think we’re good. Just leave it alone Deaton. We can just let it go. Whatever happens, happens.”

“Look at me.”

Stiles flinched and stared at her legs, they weren’t that bad, but that much skin missing over such a large area was still painful. She’d endured worse, but it was still unpleasant, and she just really didn’t want to deal with it.

“Stiles, look at me.”

Immediately, her gaze swung to Derek’s.

“Give me your hand.”

Stiles glanced at his held out hand, she hesitated for a moment, but as soon as she could feel Deaton spreading more antiseptic over her legs, she snatched at his hand and held tight.

Neither said a word, but continued to hold hands throughout the ordeal. Even when Deaton was only placing a wrapping on her shins and calves, they continued to hold hands.

It was strange though, Stiles didn’t expect to miss the warmth he provided when he removed his hand from hers. Or did she separate their hands? She wasn’t sure. Either way, it was strange to miss his hand in hers, such a simple thing, such a small gesture, but somehow, it meant so much more than it should have.

Especially when she thought of how his thumb rubbed over the back of her hand in reassurance. It was such a comforting and…kind gesture. Almost lo—Nope. That train of thought ends right there.

Walking into the lobby of the Vet’s, Stiles saw the entire Pack lounging about and talking amongst themselves’, Derek and Deaton steps behind her.

“Alright guys,” Stiles mumbled, watching all of them perk up and give her their full attention, “Let’s go home.”

The smile she got from Isaac made one spread across her own face, and soon everyone was smiling and getting up to leave.

“Oh, Ms. Martin and Ms. Argent? A moment, please?” Deaton called from the back room.

An uncomfortable look passed between the two, but they complied. “Have fun!” Stiles yelled as she walked towards the door. “You know what, on second thought, I think someone should just carry me. I mean, I deserve it. I practically saved Erica’s life, so ya’ll bitches owe me.” Stiles stood and watched as the group turned around and rolled their eyes at her in almost unison.

“Oh, come on! Can’t som—OOF.”

“Mi’Lady.” Isaac smiled, having swooped her up.

“See, Isaac’s not an asshole!”

“Zip it Stilinski!”

Stiles rolled her eyes and ignored Jackson’s comment, trying to enjoy the quiet and relatively happy moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the comments and kudos and bookmarks and everything! Seriously! It really motivates me and lets me know what people think is working for this story, it's a really big help and greatly appreciated.


	8. The Hazard that is Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek McFucked up.

 

Four weeks.

Derek had avoided her, for four weeks.

Four.

F-O-U-R.

Not hours, not days, weeks. Four fucking weeks.

Nearly a fucking month. August was literally tomorrow.

Her legs were even completely healed. He didn't even have that excuse anymore for leaving her out of shit.

Ugh.

The worst part about Derek avoiding her though, had to be the Pack following his lead. Sure, they visited her individually, and Scott was still her best bro so they still chilled, but it hurt. It really hurt. She thought she had been making some serious bonds with all of them. Bonds that meant they could chill, have barbeques, practice together, plan shit. LET HER KNOW WHY THE FUCK PEOPLE ARE DYING IN HER TOWN.

She honestly was having the sneaking suspicion that the killer was really a serial killer, not a supernatural one, just human and super fucked up. Like that made it better.

It made her feel a little better, if she were honest. She didn’t really want to think about it, but if her dead was facing a crazy, at least it wasn’t a crazy of the supernatural variety.

That at least evened the playing field out a little bit.

Stiles sighed, letting her face fall into the book she had been hunched over for the past hour. Two hours? Two and a half? What time was it again? Where was she? In her room. Not the library. That was a small victory at least.

For the past—

Stiles glanced at the clock, seeing a nice blue 2:34AM blinking at her.

—Month. Now it’s August. Fucker. Anyway. For the past MONTH she’s been visiting Deaton, figuring out weapons to use, practicing with and without them, and reading everything. Everything. All the folklore. Beacon Hills Library didn’t have a single book she hadn’t read that had something relating to the supernatural in it. Including Twilight now that she thought about it. She had a dry spell on books OK? She was curious, and Harry Potter was over, and she had needed something to latch on to, OK? Don’t judge. Shit happens. We move on, and then we never speak of it again.

Anyway, now that the Library didn’t hold a book she needed, she was having to order them from other libraries in the county to be shipped to hers. Plus, there was Deaton. He was finally willing to help now that she didn’t have anything else to do. She was pretty sure it was mostly because she told him about Deucalion, the creepy fucker with the creepy eye thing going on and how he had greeted her in Derek’s house. Yeah, Deaton was pretty gung-ho to help after that little slip.

Yeah. She wasn’t really handling the separation from Pack well.

She missed them.

But now she had three hammers: one with a handle made of mountain ash and a mallet soaked in wolfsbane named Rhaegal, another that Deaton helped her magik into being able to be set fire and burn whatever it hits, but never harm her, she named that one Drogon, and the third is named Viserion, white with runes all over the hilt, and a mallet made out of some weird metal that Deaton got her. He’d promised they’d all do some serious damage, not just on werewolves, but pretty much anything. He’d done most of the work, especially after she told him that she was trying to defend herself and all the problems with the Pack, and the weird murders. He’d been pretty insistent about it, even made her help make them, not that she didn’t want to or hadn’t expected to help, she just hadn’t expected to be much help in making them. It had taken most of the MONTH she’d been away from the Pack, but it was sure fucking worth it.

Plus, Deaton was the one that told her to name them. She was going to anyway, but he’d said to give them names of power that made her feel powerful, and well. Let’s just say she’d watched all of Game of Thrones on one of her all nighters and read all the books a week ago. Totally worth it, because now she was basically Daenerys, you know, with exceptions. It just made her feel like she could really protect herself and her Pack now.

Her Pack…

Stiles fell out of her chair and fell onto her plush carpeted floors, her head bouncing. To say the knocking on her window alarmed her was an understatement.

Shaking her head and feeling her brain rattle, Stiles tried to focus on her window. The. She could judge how alarmed she should really feel.

Her eyes locked onto a frazzled and glowy-eyed Erica and Isaac.

_Oh fuck._

Stiles scrambled to her feet and opened her window, only to fall back on her ass thanks to over eager werewolves. Yeah. Sometimes she worried they were gonna break her window. It almost made her regret lacing the lining of all her windows with mountain ash. Almost.

If they'd been Alphas, it'd have been super affective! Or at least she hoped. Because maybe they could just smash through the window. No. That wouldn't make since it was a completed shape. Well, they could still just punch through her wall. They probably wouldn't think of that though. Upset werewolves tended to give into their Id, leaving their higher level brain function rather useless and not a part of the party. So maybe she would be fine. She could test it o—

"—to Stiles. Are you OK? I really didn't mean to knock you down again, but we really don't have time for this. Derek needs us and shit is going down and we really need to talk to you and need your help a—"

"Isaac, honey, rambling is my thing. It works for me. I'm a half step away from having ADHD, so it's only logical for me to ramble. Beta werewolf? Not so much. Besides. You'v already got the kicked puppy look down. You only get one super-effective nonphysical attack at level 16, now stop."

That got Isaac to shut up and left both werewolves incredibly confused with their favorite human.

"Now," Stiles picked herself up off the floor and sat in her swivel chair, gesturing for the Betas to go ahead and campout on her bed, "what seems to be the problem, my lovelies?"

Isaac immediately started spewing nonsense.

"Um, Isaac, how about Erica explains? Huh? I love you, but I'm running on three hours of sleep and heading towards 38 hours of being awake, and I really can't understand anything you're saying." Stiles rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes and gestured for Erica to start talking.

"They took him."

Well that was unhelpfully vague, but just enough to get her worried and moving.

"I need more than that. Who took who. The Alphas? I thought they said they were gonna leave us alone until the summer was over."

Isaac started talking again, and this time Stiles let him, realizing Erica was suffering some sort of mental break.

"The Alphas, we think, took Boyd. Even if they didn't, Boyd's still missing, and we need to find him, and we need your help. Plus," Isaac hesitated for a moment, not wanting to alarm Erica further. With a cringe, he continuted, "Plus, the Full Moon is in three days, meaning he'll be without his Pack if we don't get him back soon, and we'll be without him for a Full Moon..."

Stiles hesitated in pulling out a duffel bag from under her bed.

"What does Derek say?"

Isaac and Erica shared an uncomfortable glance.

"He said to leave you out of this."

_You have got to be fucking kidding me_. Stiles let out a frustrated growl and yanked her bag out.

"That motherfucker bitch ass Sourwolf needs to man the fuck up and stop beating around the bush. He obviously thinks I'm a hazard and doesn't want me around. No matter what he says, or claims about me being a part of the Pack, even if I am human. The bigoted bastard doesn't trust me as far as he can throw me. Wait. I mean as far as I can throw him because he can throw me pretty far. Whatever. The only way he trusts someone is if he can cow them into it or has control over them. Well fuck him. You're my people too! You're important to me! And I have a right to protect those who are important to me!" Stiles seethed, throwing all three of her hammers in her bag, a jar of mountain ash, three different strains of wolfsbane, a knife, and pepper spray, because why the fuck not. Hesitating in zipping up her bag, she went into her closet and grabbed a metal baseball bat. Or softball bat? Whatever. The fucker would hurt.

Finding her bag to be satisfactory for whatever she might need she looked back up to Erica and Isaac from her position on the floor. "Well? Are we going or what? I don't need anything else. The bestiary is on my phone now too anyway if we need that, so there is literally nothing else I could need."

Isaac glanced over at Erica and then at Stiles, obviously confused and reluctant to move.

Erica moving seemed to make the decision for them though. Thinking of the human among them, she headed for the stairs, mumbling "We'll take your piece of shit Jeep."

"It is not a piece of shit, Catwoman, rude. No. You know what, that doesn't even bother me right now, because I have bigger wolves to fry."

Isaac tailed the group, reluctantly holding Stiles' bag for her and closing the door to her room for her. He let out a frustrated sigh, muttering "I hate when mom and dad fight" under his breath.

"I heard that ya little shit!" Stiles hollered up the stairs.

"No you didn't. Erica did and told you."

"Either way, I fucking heard that. Now hurry up before I leave your furry little ass behind."

Isaac hurried after, quickly following the two girls out the front door, hefting the bag over his shoulder.

\- - - - -

“Where the fuck are we?” Stiles growled, sounding very close to her werewolf counterparts. They were almost proud. Really.

“We’re at Derek’s Loft/Apartment thing,” Isaac clarified from the back seat, his voice strained. He was quite obviously feeling the strain from disobeying his Alpha. Erica on the other hand, was perfectly fine. Likely because of the connection she shared with Boyd, her wolf was able to recognize the importance of Stiles being there. She may have her Alpha and her Pack, but her Mate came before all of that. Even though neither Erica nor Boyd had come out and said they were together, everyone knew it. Even Stiles. Hell, Stiles was pretty sure she was the first to notice. The two were pretty fucking obvious. Especially with how they acted when they came back.

“So, I’m guessing this is a recent development? What happened to repairing the house?” Stiles’ brow furrowed, searching for a place to discreetly park her car in this somewhat shady part of town.

“Yes and no.”

Stiles quirked an eyebrow in her rearview mirror at Isaac. “Care to elaborate on that there honey bunch?”

Isaac rolled his eyes and explained. “When he realized that the upstairs was next in being redone and that the Alpha Pack already knew where his house was, he wanted to move us out to somewhere else. Where if something happened to the place it wouldn’t really matter and we could at least feel safe for a couple weeks.”

“Ah, well, I guess that makes sense. Why fuck up the house right in the middle of the renovation, right?” Stiles rationalized, finding a quasi-alleyway to park in, sliding up in between a brick wall and a fence.

Isaac just nodded, his eyes tinting gold for a second.

“Well, I’m sure asshat already knows I’m here, so let’s get this over with, shall we?” Stiles hopped out of the Jeep after patting Erica’s thigh, trying to pass a comforting gesture onto the visibly distraught girl.

Moments later, they were walking up the four flights of stairs to their almighty Alpha’s loft.

“I know this asshole’s loaded, so why the fuck is he staying in the ghetto with a place that doesn’t even have a working elevator?”

“It’s under maintenance right now Stiles. They promise it’ll be up and running by the time school starts.”

“I fucking hope so! How long before you’re back in the house?”

“The construction crew said by January, but Derek’s pushing them to get it done by Christmas. With us not living there right now, it should really help pick up the speed.”

“That sounds like a load of bullshit, son.”

“No. Trust me, their terrified of Derek.”

“You’ve gotta be fuckin—No. You know what. I believe that. Did he do the whole Alpha Alpha Alpha bullshit thing on them too? I bet he did. Fucker. That’s so unfair. Fucking animal magnetism bull shit. How the fuck is that fair. I’m pretty sure that’s cheating to be honest—”

“Stiles,” Erica snarled, “Shut. Up. You’re making me nervous.”

Stiles gave her a slightly apologetic look, forgetting that some people dealt with nerves differently from herself. Not everyone could babel and just run their mouth until everybody else stopped and the situation went away or was dealt with.

“We’re here anyway,” Isaac mumbled, sliding the metal doors open with a loud clang.

“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me. Ya’ll have fucking dungeon doors. What the he—.”

“I see you didn’t fucking listen.”

And just like that, her, Derek, and the wall were in their wonderful little romance once again.

“We didn’t have a cho—”

“You always have a fucking choice. It’s called fucking **OBEY**.”

Stiles didn’t even have to see him to know that the fuckers eyes were glowing red. Or that his teeth were already elongating. Jesus. Some people. “I see you’re still a fucking Drama Queen.” Stiles sassed, giving Derek a shove that really resulted in him not moving at all, but at least the assbitch knew she was motherfucking inclined to kick his sorry ass.

“I told you that **she was to stay OUT of this**! How hard is that to **understand**?! It’s a **fucking order**! Even Scott understood!”

Over the sound of Derek IGNORING her, she could hear Scott yell out a somewhat offended “hey,” but it was obviously half-hearted. Now that she thought about it, why had only Isaac and Erica come to find her? Last time she checked, there was nine members of this Pack, not including herself, but including all the humans, and FUCKING PETER. And yet only Isaac and Erica showed up. Well, Boyd was missing so she couldn’t really fault him but—Wait. No. This didn’t matter. Boyd was _fucking_ missing. **BOYD** was fucking _missing_. Boyd was **fucking** _MISSING_.

So, logically, Stiles punched him. Derek. She punched Derek.

“You. Need to shut the fuck up.”

Derek turned his head away from Isaac until his eyes were level with Stiles’.

“Excuse me?”

Yup. She was right. All glowy and fanged out.

“You’re being a dumbass. We have Pack missing. We need to find him. Now.”

Derek stared at her for a moment. Processing what she just said.

“I may be human, but while you were being a fuckass, I got shit done. I have a duffel bag full of weapons. Literally. A fucking duffel bag. Ya’ll bunch of fucktards left me alone for that long. I was able to work efficiently, yes. But you know what? You’re my Pack too, Derek. All of you. And it was really fucking lonely. Like I lost all my limbs and was just a fucking head. I was a fucking worm boy for a month. A fucking MONTH Derek. Do you understand the level of just fucking can’t that was? Like, level 3000. Like Andres 3000, only less awesome. Way less awesome. Do you understand? If I was a werewolf, I could’ve become an Omega. You’re fucking lucky I’m human and as fucking forgiving as a saint. But that doesn’t matter right now, because we have shit to do, son. And I will not lose a Pack member I haven’t even seen for a month because some prick ass fucks think they can do this sort of bull shit just because they can.” Stiles glanced around the room, looking everyone there in the eye until her gaze fell back to Derek. “Now, why don’t you set me down so we can get to fucking work.”

Derek hesitated for a moment, his eyes still shining a brilliant red.

“Please,” Stiles added as an afterthought. Remembering what Deaton had said about challenging Alphas and what it would likely do to her health.

Derek’s eyes flickered and faded, and then she found her feet once again firmly planted on the ground.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, stepping back and away from Derek, realizing how close they were for a second before slamming the thoughts that brought up into the back of her mind.

“Now. Tell me what the fuck I’ve missed while I’ve been off the island.”

Isaac chuckled beside her ear, and Stiles nearly stumbled, but he steadied her with a touch to her elbow. “Come on,” he sighed, guiding her into the loft and passed Derek, Erica on her other side.

“Not so fast,” Derek snarled, reaching over and snatching Isaac by the scruff of his neck. “Next time I tell you something, **I expect you to listen**. Is that clear.” Stiles could feel that it was an order, not a question, a flat out Alpha-says order. Sometimes she really felt like Derek took things a step too far. Then again, she supposed his wolf wouldn’t stand for anything less. Especially from a submissive Beta in his Pack. For a second she wondered why he didn’t say anything to Erica as well, but the thought was shot down as soon as she saw Erica’s face.

Her eyes were dead.

Her wolf was ready to go into mourning.

_Aw hell._

He didn’t say anything because it would fall on deaf ears, and it was logical for a wolf who lost their Mate to go rogue, it was only a matter of time.

“Erica, sweety, why don’t we go sit down,” Stiles suggested, speaking softly as she slid her arm around Erica’s waist.

Erica just nodded and followed her to the couch at the edge of the large open space.

Once Erica was settled in on the couch, Stiles took a step back to evaluate the space. It was open, grungy, and quite obviously a Bachelor pad. _This is awkward_ , Stiles couldn’t help but think. Feeling like she really was intruding on Derek’s territory or room rather than his living room.

She had another thought wisping by, but it was short lived, Derek gaining the attention of everyone in the loft rather quickly.

“Erica,” he spoke calmly but with an assurance that commanded obedience. Why was that attractive. That shouldn’t be attractive. What the fuck was wrong with her.

“I think it’s time you told the rest of the Pack what happened to you and Boyd.”

What was that sound? Oh. That was the sound of Stiles’ train of thought crashing all over the train tracks and exploding all over the surrounding town. Yup. This was sure to be incredibly fucking upsetting, if the expression on both Erica and Derek’s faces were any clue.

_Fuuuuuuuucking hell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments and bookmarks and just everything! They really motivate me, and make me really happy too, so, thank you!  
> Also, this chapter is much longer to make up for the fact that it's a little late. Well, that's not the reason it's long, but I can pretend.  
> Anyway, I was wondering about doing some other AUs too and wanted to ask a quick opinion about them. Futuristic fic with girl!Stiles and that jazz but everyone else is still pretty much the same as cannon? And I've been thinking about doing a College AU or Nightmare one, but I could integrate both of those to this I guess...because this isn't really gonna end I think.  
> I might separate it into parts of a series though...thoughts?


	9. The Hazard that is Sleep Deprivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot-ish. With fluff-ish. And learning some information. And stuff. Trust building I think mostly.

 

Stiles tried not to cry through Erica’s story. She really did. She even held her hand through it, squeezing it for support. Erica on the other hand looked completely numb to the world, seemingly unaffected while talking about her abduction and captivity.

“It had lasted for nearly two months. Boyd and I had been locked up for almost the entire time, and were unable to feel the full moon. Couldn’t even feel when it was. We could only guess when it was because of how the Alphas behaved.”

She said they were locked in a cage like structure with a heavy duty door keeping them in. “It’s hard to remember the details clearly…” Erica strayed off glancing, at Derek for a moment.

“Deaton believes Erica and Boyd were subdued with some sort of drug and locked in with mountain ash,” Scott chimed in from across the room.

Stiles kept her focus on Erica though, not wanting to miss a thing. “One night, I remember, Boyd and I were waiting for the female Alpha—I think her name’s Kaylee or something like that, major bitch, and not in the good way—to come and well…Anyway, she showed up, but stayed on the other side of the mountain ash, saying she’d have to come and visit later. Then that Deucalion was waiting for her, and I think, I donno, at the time we just didn’t care, but I think they were going to catch another Omega…” Erica glanced at Derek again, obviously unsure of how much she should really say to the Pack.

Clearing her throat and returning Stiles’ hand squeeze, she continued, “While they were gone, something happened. Boyd and I slipped in and out of consciousness a lot so I really don’t know what, but the line ended up being broken and, well, we saw an opportunity and we took it.” Erica scrunched up her face, trying to hold back tears.

Stiles’ heart ached. Erica had been through so much, alone and with Boyd, and now for Boyd to possibly be where they were together not so long ago…

“Do you remember where you were?”

Erica shook her head, hiccupping as tears streamed down her face.

“Do you remember anything from leaving wherever you were? Was it dark? Was it cold? Was it hot? Were their trees? W—”

“Stiles,” Derek set a hand down on her shoulder. “She doesn’t remember.”

Stiles couldn’t accept that. The memories were there, it was just whether or not it made sense to her recall systems. It was easy to remember sounds and smells, especially when unique. Erica knew clues that could help them find Boyd, she just wasn’t sure of them.

“We’ve done everything we can. We just have to search for him as a Pack normally would now instead.” Derek sighed, gripping her shoulder and pushing away.

“Are you really so sure about that, Derek?”

Stiles’ muscles tensed up and she bolted straight up, swinging her body around until her eyes landed on Peter, sitting on a spiral staircase.

“Well hello to you too, Creepy Uncle Pete. How are you? Wait. I don’t care.”

“Don’t call me ‘Pete’.”

“Yeah, don’t call him that, it’s weird for all of us.” Derek leaned into her, stepping slightly between her and Peter as he did so.

“Well, I’m OK with it. I don’t really like him anyway.” Isaac drawled from the couch where he was leaning into Erica.

“Nobody likes him.” Derek brushed his arm against Stiles’ shoulder, gripping her arm to turn her around.

“Alright, assholes. I heard that, obviously, and that’s just rude.”

Stiles rolled her eyes, readying a quip to throw back at Peter, but he hopped over the side of the staircase, and sauntered up to Stiles, making her pause.

Peter quirked an eyebrow, “As I was saying, Derek, my sweet nephew, are you sure you’ve tried everything? _Everything_? **Everything**.”

“Enough, spit it out Peter.”

“There should be an ‘Uncle’ before that, but I’ll let that go for now,” Peter stalked around Derek and Stiles, heading for the couch that Erica sat on. “We both know what _I_ could do to help, Derek.” Peter glanced back, giving Derek a meaningful look.

“You’re not an Alpha anymore, are you sure you can even still do that?”

“I’m hurt, Derek. Ye of little faith.”

“I don’t need you messing with her mind.” Derek’s eyes narrowed, leaving _more than it already is_ , left unsaid.

“Do it.”

Everyone’s attention flitted back to Erica.

“If it can help us find Boyd, I want you to do it.”

Derek’s eyes flashed red for a moment, stepping forward, ready to chastise Erica.

“Derek,” Stiles faltered, touching Derek’s forearm, just briefly, just barely, but it was enough for him to stop and turn back to her. “Why don’t you explain what you’re talking about a little more thoroughly? Then we can all make the decision to encourage or discourage Erica.”

Derek’s eyes narrowed slightly before he nodded and looked back to his Pack. “Alright, Scott, you’re probably the best example of this. Remember when Peter clawed the back of your neck and you ended up seeing flashes of his memories?”

Scott nodded quickly, eyes lighting up in recognition. “Yeah, it was weird and disorganized slightly, but I understood the gist of what was happening. It was like sharing his thoughts as if they were mine…” Scott trailed off, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of what that all meant.

“It’s similar to that, but instead of Peter inserting thoughts and memories to share, he’d be sort of inducing them in Erica and reliving them with her.”

“So, basically the link would be going the other way,” Isaac sat up, eyes flitting between Derek and Stiles. “So what’s the big deal?”

Derek let out a low growl that sent Isaac’s head back into Erica’s side. “The _big deal_ is that it won’t be nearly as stable with Erica as it was with Scott. With Scott, Peter was an Alpha, with Erica…”

“With the way you idiots treat me, I’m basically an Omega.”

“And that’s not including how frazzled the memories will be thanks to Erica having difficulty recalling them and the high likelihood of her being drugged at the time. There are any number of side effects that may take place.” Derek crossed his arms, clearly deciding that he had argued his case perfectly and that the Pack was on his side.

“I’m game. Still sounds good to me,” Erica hopped up from the couch, letting Isaac tumble off the couch after her.

“I agree with Erica,” Isaac mumbled, pulling himself up off the floor, dusting his pant legs.

“Normally I’d say this is bullshit and too risky, but…I think it’s worth a chance.” Scott nodded somberly.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me? Did you not hear a single word I just said? NO. We’re not doing this!” Derek’s eyes glowed a brilliant red, teeth sharpening slightly.

“Derek,” Stiles squeezed his forearm again, putting the fact that she hadn’t let go of him the entire time to the back of her mind, because that was something to analyze waaaaaaaaaaay later and not right now. Why hadn’t he shrugged her off? And what was with the protective shit? He stepped in front of her with Peter and even blocked him when he passed them to get to Erica’s side. The hell was that shit? Did he really think she was that weak of a human? She couldn’t handle a big bad wolf? Well, maybe she couldn’t, but she totally could! If she was given the right opportunity and time to deal with this shit. Ugh. Men. No, Werewolves. Fuck Werewolves. NO. Don’t go th—And we’re there, helloooo images of grinding up on one Derek Hale. Oh shit that would be so hottt. What if he like, let her, oH GOD. The images. Just, yes, good. File away for later.

Stiles shook her head, re-jumbling her thoughts into some semblance of order.

“Derek,” she repeated, eyes zeroing in on his Majestic eyes. That’s right, they deserved a capital “M” for sure. “I…I think we should really consider this. We have Boyd to think of, and there might be a second Were with him…” Stiles trailed off, glancing away from his intense eyes and to the rest of the Pack for a moment before finding his eyes again. “I think we can figure out a safer way to do this, but I really think we need to. What other chance do we have than Erica remembering what she saw?”

Derek’s nose wrinkled in a snarl, “Ugh! Fine! Do what you will!” Derek stalked off with a huff, shoulders hunched and headed for the stairway.

As he left the room, Stiles could feel Peter step closer behind her, making the hair stand up on the back of her neck. “Well, I for one think that went as well as it possibly could have.”

“Speak for yourself,” Stiles sighed, making a hasty decision to follow after Derek.

\- - - - -

“Derek!” Stiles called, voice slightly ragged thanks to running down the stairs. “Derek! Where are you, bro? Come on. You’re the Alpha! You’re supposed to be here for us—them when they need you! Seriously? You’re acting like a five year-old right now. Come on, Derek.”

Stiles grunted and kicked some rocks in a huff. _This is fucking ridiculous. Why the hell is he running away like a little girl? Ugh. This is so dumb._

“Derek, if I get attacked out here, I am so blaming your ass on this, I’m not eve—HOLY JESUS FUCKING CHRIST DON’T DO THAT WHY WOULD YOU EVER DO THAT.”

Derek had come up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his warmth.

“Shut. Up.”

“What are you even doing right now?” Stiles squirmed until she was turned around in Derek’s grip, only to find her face in his chest. She bent her head back until she could see him, making her neck twinge at the awkward angle. _Either this fucker is really tall or really fucking close._ “I thought you wanted to find Boyd. Why are you being like this?”

Derek snorted and squeezed her closer. “Of course I want to find Boyd, I just don’t want to needlessly endanger my Pack in the process.”

“I think they understand that Derek, but you’re forgetting that they’re willing to do just about anything for each other, even if they suck at showing it.” Stiles wrapped her arms around Derek’s torso, giving him a much needed hug, or at least she thought he needed one. He was probably only acting like this because she barely smelled of Pack. It was likely putting him on edge.

Derek breathed in and out a few times, leaving Stiles waiting for him to get the idea through his thick sku—and yeah he was totally breathing through his mouth. This asshole was totally trying to scent her subtly right now _. Wow. Really, Der? Really Der-bear. Really. Come on._

Sometimes she worried about whether or not Werewolves could read minds. This was one of those times, because she knew if Derek knew that she made nicknames for him in her head A LOT, that he’d be super pissed, and probably maul her. And not in the good way.

“The Pack is what matters. The Pack comes first, always. Not…” Derek glanced down at her, meeting her eyes for a moment before simply closing them, “the individual person.” In the back of her mind, the thought that Derek, an Alpha, had basically looked away first, niggled at her. But so did the thought that he technically hadn’t. Seeing as his eyes were open again and being all intense and staring her down like she did something she shouldn’t have.

“What? I haven’t done anything wrong. What’s with the look?”

“You smell weird.”

“Oh,” Stiles grimaced, “I’ve been…like what exactly?”

“Like you’ve been doing things you shouldn’t and are completely exhausted.”

Stiles attempted a completely unconvincing smile, only to make Derek let out a soft growl. Stiles knew it was just him asking her “What?” without actually asking. It was weird to think he actually trusted her enough to do that, to make it so that she technically could figure out a way to lie, but believing she ultimately would tell the truth, the whole truth, so help you God, swear on the Bible and everything before the courtroom, but without any of that. Derek trusted her.

Derek trusted her.

Derek trusted her!

Holy fuck!

“Well,” Stiles squinted and leaned away slightly, only for Derek to bring her closer, asshat. “I’ve been learning a lot from Deaton and in general, and making weapons, and booby-trapping my room and house, and haven’t really slept in a while thanks to worrying and overworking. All of which I could totally try to blame on you, but I won’t because I figure you were trying to protect the Pack from the hot mess that is Stiles Not-telling-you-any-of-my-real-names Stilinski. I get it. For the Pack. But if you ever cut me out like that again, oh-ho, well, let’s just hope you don’t. Hell hath no fury, asshole, trust me on that.”

“What do you mean weapons? And traps?” Derek’s eyebrows furrowed, eyes flashing slightly.

“Seriously? That’s what you gained from all that? Wow, someone needs to get their priorities straight.” Stiles moved her arms out from around Derek’s ribs until they were between her and Derek’s chest, slightly protecting her from the lecture that was sure to be coming, but also giving her a good feel of what all was underneath that lovely black t-shirt. “You see, sometimes, I get these urges to do things, and thanks to all this, I’ve had some serious urges to protect and defend and all that shit, which I also want to blame on all ya’ll but I won’t because I know that is totally all me. Anyway, I went to Deaton after you completely ignored me for three days, because I was 500% done with your bull, and wanting answers, but like usual, he wasn’t exactly forthcoming. So, as is my prerogative, I ranted until he decided to shut me up by helping me out. Also, I think he was genuinely concerned over the fact that Deucalion introduced himself to me in your kitchen when none of you were there.”

Derek gave her a look which she knew meant something like “Wrap it up now, or I’m gonna kill you, with my teeth, via ripping open your throat.”

“Uh, uh, anyway, he helped me forge some weapons pretty much, which all happen to be BOSS as hell, and gave me some books, and herbs, but the herbs only came after I asked for them and asked for some help with Spark stuff, which he really hasn’t been forthcoming on information about that either, but all I really wanted was defensive stuff and one or two offensive things. Mostly for the weapons and traps. And look at that, we made it back to the original point. Basically, I was feeling useless to the Pack and rather defenseless with all of you avoiding me like I had the Plague, and decided to figure out ways to protect myself from supernatural shit. Mostly werewolves. Specifically the Alphas. Actually, pretty much just the Alphas. I really don’t want a strange ass Alpha in my bedroom while I’m sleeping. That would be awkward and upsetting to wake-up to, to be completely honest.”

Stiles took a gulp of air and realized Derek was totally livid. Nostrils flaring, eyes glowy, eyebrows all angle-y, livid. Sourwolf was piiiiiiiiissed.

“What?! Come on! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You’ve been using magik?” Derek snarled, making Stiles flinch.

“Uh, technically, not really, mostly just stuff like the mountain ash circle and such, just a little bit, OK, a lot a bit, and some mistletoe, and wolfsbane. OK, definitely a lot of those, but still, nothing no one in your little Pack hasn’t used or seen at some point already.”

“I’m not even going to acknowledge you trying to act like the Pack isn’t yours and you aren’t ours, because I might have to throw you into a wall, or actually make you submit if I have to bring that up again, so shut up, and move on from that. Next, what the fuck are you thinking? Putting up shit to keep the Alphas out also keeps us out, what if there’s an emergency? With you, or with the Pack? Then what? And! Icing on the cake! Do you really think the smell of that much shit that can kill ANY Werewolf is going to keep the Alphas from showing up? All that shit basically makes your house a fucking beacon for them. What are you trying to do? Get them to find you?”

Stiles smiled awkwardly.

Derek snarled and lifted her up, “Don’t even go there. No. Plus, do you really think I would let you fall that deep into danger? I am your Alpha. Do you trust me so little?” Despite Derek manhandling her and being all wolfy, he sounded broken. Did the idea of her distrusting him really upset him? Well, no matter what she claimed or felt from time to time, she was a member of his Pack, even if she wasn’t sure where she fit, she was a part of it. The idea of being seen as an Alpha that couldn’t be relied on, well, she doubted that was good for his ego or his wolf.

“Derek,” Stiles gripped at the fabric of his shirt, bunching it between her fingers, “I trust you. I do.”

Derek snorted, but kept moving.

“Derek! Stop. Look at me.”

Derek swung her around until her feet touched the ground in front of him again. “What, Stiles? Fucking—What?”

“I. Trust. You. Come here,” Stiles took his hand in hers and brought it to her chest, resting his fingertips against her clavicle and his palm above her breast. “Listen,” Stiles implored, looking him straight in the eye, “I, Genevieve Marie Stilinski, trust you, Derek Hale, my Alpha, with my life and the lives of my friends, Pack, and family. I just need to feel like I can protect them, you, and myself in return. ”

Derek stared at her, astounded. Yeah, she had that effect on people sometimes. Point for team Stiles. “Your name’s Genevieve?”

Stiles glowered. “Tell anyone, and I mean ANYONE, and I’ll kill you. I’ll make it look like a fucking accident, too. Scott doesn’t even know my first name, and he’s my best friend.”

Derek smiled. Full-on, incredibly attractive and rather arousing, smiled. Full teeth too, cheesy as hell, and it was kinda freaky, because Werewolf teeth, but also really HOT, because Werewolf teeth. Damn. Wow. You really need to smile more.

Aaaaaaaaaaaand, judging by the widening of that smile, she said that aloud. Fucking hell.

“You know what, don’t judge me, I haven’t slept in—what time is it? Fuck, it’s almost 4AM, shit! I haven’t slept in almost 40 hours. Shit. Tits. That explains so much. OK. I need to sleep, like, yesterday. Literally. I need to go, or shit’s gonna hit that fan REAL fucking quick. Ya feel me?”

“You what?”

Stiles fumbled in Derek’s grip. _Fuck._

“Uh-huh, um. What? Who said that.”

“Stiles! Fucking—Seriously? Do you have no sense of self-preservation? At all?” Derek snarled and picked her up again, this time carrying her bridal style as opposed to the earlier awkward, slightly over shoulder, maybe fireman-esque grip he had had on her.

“Honestly? Probably not all that much.” Stiles snorted, leaning into Derek, feeling all the hype from when Erica and Isaac had first shown up at her house wearing off.

Derek tightened his grip on her, but didn’t acknowledge her half-wit statement with a reply.

“Where are you taking me? My car is the other way.”

“You’re sleeping with that Pack tonight. It’ll be good for you anyway. You need it.”

“Pfft, like hell. You won’t even let me run with ya’ll on Full Moons.” Stiles snorted, feeling drowsy. The rhythm of Derek’s steady gait and his heartbeat in her ear was surprisingly soothing.

“You can’t drive home like this.” Derek shook his head and walked up the stairs two at a time, not even jostling Stiles as he did so.

“Sure I can, I’ve done it before. No worries.”

“Stiles. No.”

Stiles let out a long-suffering sigh. Deciding to just let herself enjoy the closeness with Derek and how warm she felt because of it, inside and out.

“’I’ll need to text or leave a message for my Dad then, he’ll want to know why I’m not home when he gets back from work.”

“I’ll have Scott text him and make up some stupid excuse about him and Allison fighting.”

“But Dad knows they’re a happy couple,” Stiles murmured into Derek’s chest, her grip on his shirt loosening and tightening intermittently.

“Not so much lately,” Derek snorted, a slight smile creeping at the corner of his mouth.

“Seriously? What? How? This is crazy! What about Lydia and Jackson? Why aren’t they here? What’ve I missed?!” Stiles eyes shot open, looking up to Derek but only seeing the scruff that lived between his chin and neck.

“You can ask the Pack in the morning. Mostly you’ve just missed Scott moping like a kicked puppy.”

“He did something stupid, didn’t he? I bet he did something stupid,” Stiles snuggled into Derek’s warmth.

“Shut up, we’re almost back, and you’re going to sleep.”

“Whatever you say,” Stiles was interrupted by a rather large yawn, only to press her cheek into Derek further, “Der…”

And just like that, she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! And thank you for the reviews and kudos and everything! Really!
> 
> This chapter is a little on the long side too, but I feel like I'm sort of pushing the Plot around, so, yeah. I'm sorry. I should probably work on that. Thoughts?
> 
> Anyway, Thank you so much!
> 
> (Also, Stiles name thing. I looked it up and apparently that's the Polish to English spelling on that one, so I hope it's OK. It won't be frequently used in this fic, at least for the foreseeable future. And it seems to be the popular go to, so why not. Thoughts on that maybe? It made me a little nervous.)  
> (Edit: Fixed up some misspelled words and such. Sorry about that :/)


	10. The Hazard that are Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!

The day of the full moon came all too quickly, and they were no closer to finding Boyd.

None.

It was driving her nuts.

Derek and the rest of the Pack didn’t seem to be faring much better either. Erica was the worst, by far. It made Stiles’ heart ache seeing Erica that way, like the lights were on but no one was home. Every time the Pack was together, Erica would zone out or look off at some point, like she didn’t know where she was. It made Stiles’ feel a physical ache in her chest that she honestly hadn’t thought she was completely feeling towards people besides her family and Scott. Hell, especially someone who’d knocked her out with a piece of her car and then tossed her into the garbage like the trash Erica had thought she was.

Well, apparently she was capable of it, and it was driving her nuts.

She didn’t need to feel like this. Like Erica was a part of her family and needed her comfort. Like Boyd was a missing limb. And boy, did it make her feel protective of Isaac. He wasn’t obvious about his fear and pain over Boyd and Erica, but Stiles could tell. She was the Sheriff’s kid, and there were some things you just picked up on and learned when you were hanging around Officers that often.

Also being a fellow liar helped too. Knowing how to lie certainly helped in finding one.

And Derek. Fucking Derek.

Stiles sighed and glanced across the loft at him.

The asshole was being more distant than ever. Acting weird around her, despite the fact that they’d had a decent bonding experience the other night. Whatever. She could deal with Derek once her Pack was back together and her life less awful.

It didn’t help that she had to deal with her father when she got home the other morning. Sure, he had ended up having to work late, but that didn’t make it any less awkward when she showed up at nine in the morning when her father also happened to pulling up.

Luckily, she was able to spin a story on how Allison and Scott had broken up, and she had had to console her best buddy. Even if he could be an asshat. Shit, now that she thought about it, she really would have to talk to Scott at some point soon, given that they actually had…

Well, he did have the others…

Which made everything suck a little more, with tonight being the Full Moon, Derek and the rest of the Pack would be doing Pack stuff, leaving her…doing whatever.

Probably research.

She couldn’t even hang out with Allison or Lydia at this point, because apparently, _both_ Jackson and Scott had fucked up, and the two girls were boycotting men for the rest of the summer. The icing on the cake was the fact that Mr. Argent had found it to be the perfect time to whisk Allison off to France for the rest of the summer, and of course Lydia had to go to, because shopping.

It didn’t even make sense. There was less than a month left of the summer. Why.

Honestly, it just made her feel more lonely and like a giant fucking outsider.

Derek certainly didn’t help. Mr. Hot’n Fucking-Cold. She really didn’t get what the dude wanted from her. Well, maybe he didn’t really want anything from her, but she was starting to get what Deaton wanted her to be.

Doc was starting to give her information on what the fuck him and Morrell really were. And by information, she meant a book in archaic-Latin. Yeah, that’d take her a week most likely. Well, with all the shit going down, probably longer.

Oh well.

At least she could get some of it done tonight while everyone else was out. Maybe, at some point when Derek was more stable and Boyd was back, she could ask about going with them during the Full Moon runs. Or at least going to the general area they’re in. It’s supposed to be some sort of bonding experience, so that could be good for her. Well, she’d appreciate it, but she seriously doubted that Derek would allow for that to happen any time soon. She wasn’t a Were and she wasn’t mated.

Stiles sighed and stood up, realizing she actually had a lot of work to get done tonight. Apparently there had been another murder. At this point she was totally thinking it was a serial killer. There were three deaths already, this one made four. All the victims were female, between the ages of 16 and 22, which was actually a pretty large gap, given that it made the victim anywhere from high school to college age. The unfortunate part, was that there was no other pattern to it. Well, that was a lie. No pattern that the police would know to look for. They all looked like animal attacks. Brutal, vicious, animal attacks, and all the girls were out for the night, some to the club, some at a girls night out, some just leaving the grocery store apparently. Great. That’s fantastic. Ya know, because that doesn’t mean he’s attacking literally any young women he can get in reach of.

She was assuming on the “he,” but women rarely were random killers. Women typically killed with purpose, or in revenge. Somehow, Stiles doubted that any of these girls had done something so terrible that revenge killing was necessary. The worst any of them could have done was possibly stealing someone’s boyfriend, or cheat on a test, or cheat in general. That rarely resulted in the deaths of four completely unrelated girls.

So, yeah. This case was really bothering her. A lot.

She hadn’t bothered to tell the Pack about it though. They all already had enough of their own issues to deal with, they didn’t need to hear her worries, especially when she was the only one who had reason to worry. None of them could be hurt by this guy, not really, especially since she still had suspicions that the killer was human. Still, she was worried for her father. Not that he couldn’t handle himself, just, she was worried about what would happen if he came face to face with the Supernatural and was unaware of what it even was.

Still, the killer could be human.

_Who am I kidding. This shit had Werewolf written all over it. A girl can dream though. Hope for the best. Oh god that sounds morbid. People are dying and I’m hoping the killer’s human. Ugh. The things I deal with…_

Stiles shook her head, scattering her thoughts.

“Hey, Derek, I better get to heading on out. It’s nearly 5 in the afternoon, and I still have to make Dad’s dinner for if comes home.” Stiles called over her shoulder as she headed towards the dungeon doors.

“What.”

Stiles jerked back. “Oh. Wow. That’s cool. Just teleport across the room and give me a fucking heart attack why don’t ya!”

Derek just gave her a look and Stiles rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Derek, I have shit to do. And you guys honestly can’t do much tonight anyway. I’m not needed here, so I might as well go do shit that needs to be done.”

“Stiles,” Derek sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “You are needed here. St—”

“No, Derek. I’m not. I understand that in this moment, I am of no use. I can’t track Boyd and I can’t control or help any of you through the Full Moon. Anyway, I’m not even allowed around here for your guys’ run tonight, so I might as well get going now. Right?” Stiles gazed up at him, quirking a brow. Asking him to find a whole in her logic, and hearing Spock in her head saying “The Cadet’s logic is sound,” while she waited. Because her logic was so fucking sound, and she really wanted to watch Star Trek again, maybe she could have them playing while she translated all of her stuff tonight. And reset all of the information about the murders she compiled. She was gonna have to pull a Sherlock at this point. Well, honestly there already was a ton of shit on her wall about the murders, all she needed to add at this point was the thumbtacks and string. Hmm. Maybe that’ll help.

_Reorganize murder board. Noted._

“—iles, are you even listening to me?”

“What?”

Derek let out an exasperated sigh. And mumbled out something unintelligebile.

“What?” Stiles glanced around the room to Isaac and Scott, both of whom shook their heads, equally confused about what Derek was trying to say.

“I said,” Derek locked his jaw, and finally met Stiles’ eyes, “that you should be here for the Pack’s run tonight.”

“…What?”

“OK. I know you heard me that time Stiles, so don’t ev—”

“No. Like, what? Are you serious right now? No shitting? You’re not fucking with me?” Stiles flailed her hands about, conveying her complete confusion.

“Yes, Stiles. I am 100% serious. No shitting. Not fucking with you,” Stiles pretended that the flinch she felt at that particular word choice didn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t have bothered her, shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Even just a little bit.

“I think the Pack needs you here for the run tonight.” Derek clarified, crossing his thick arms across his impressive chest, the fabric of his t-shirt straining ever so slightly over his biceps.

_Ugh. Why. Why does he have to do the thing, with the serious face and attractive stance and showing off of the muscles. Why. Why do the thing._

“Yeah, Stiles, we think it’d be good too. We need you.”

Stiles gave a surprised look to Scott and Isaac who were now on either side of her, just behind her shoulders.

“We need all of the Pack with us tonight.” Isaac gently placed a warm palm over her shoulder, trying to be reassuring and encouraging, which was adorable in so many ways. What a roll reversal.

“Uh, not gonna lie. This is pretty surprising to me. I mean, Deaton told me that this kind of needed to be a thing a couple times, but I told him Pluto was more likely to be made a planet again. I think I owe Pluto an apology. But, uh, I mean. I guess? That sounds good? What will I do. I’m pretty positive that I can’t actually physically run with you guys. You guys are pretty fast when you’re holding back, I can’t imagine how fast y’all will be when you don’t have your inhibitions holding you back.” Stiles shuffled her feet about as she spoke, feeling incredibly nervous. Not that she didn’t want to go. She did. More than they could possibly imagine, but a part of her felt like it was simply because they were missing so many, while the other part said she had too much work to do.

Derek’s eyebrows creased. “So is that a no? Or what?”

“No. I mean—Yes. I mean. I would like to. I just don’t see what exactly I would be doing besides sitting around waiting for you guys.” Stiles shrugged, pulling the sleeves of her red hoodie down over her knuckles, her nervousness spiking.

“We’ll figure something out,” Scott reassured,  setting a hand on her back opposite Isaac’s.

“Umm…” Stiles hesitated, looking each of them in the eye before she finally nodded. “Ok.”

Everyone seemed to let out a breath of air, including Stiles, which she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“Well, I’m glad that’s finally settled. They’ve been really annoying about that since Derek suggested it the other day.” Peter called from the staircase as he languidly strolled down to their floor.

Stiles’ brow knitted. “Really? But I thought…When Deaton said that stuff to you when I got hurt—”

“I changed my mind.” Derek turned his back to her, heading towards the kitchen.

“I can see that, asshat, I was wondering **what** had done that,” Stiles followed after him.

“Just a feeling,” Derek replied, waving a hand at her, dismissing the subject.

Stiles stopped short. “Yeah, sure.” Throwing a quickly glance to Peter and the others, she decided to clear some things up for the Full Moon real quick. “So, is there anything I should prepare for? Like, are you guys gonna go naked, or turn into that nasty thing Peter turned into, or whatever?”

Peter chuckled and shook his head as he sauntered over. “No, my dear Stiles, we can’t answer that. That’s all part of the surprise. Just, wear something you can run and keep warm in.”

Stiles rolled her eyes but nodded her head anyway, “OK. Fine, but I still need to go home first. I have some shit I need to take care of.” Stiles slid her hand into her pocket and pulled out her keys.

“Then by all means, come when you’ve finished. We’ll be at the house. We always run in the woods. Just be there around midnight. That should be a give you enough time.”

Stiles nodded again, turned herself around and headed on out as calmly as possible. “Then see ya tonight!”

Yeah. She was totally gonna party dance it out when she got home. This was so fucking awesome. A definite win for the Home team. One more point up on the board for Stiles Stilinski please!

Fuck yeah.

\- - - - -

Stiles spent most of her time at home sorting through all of the information she had on the recent murders, having seen a note on the counter from her father, saying that he “wouldn’t be home tonight because of the fourth body” and to “order a pizza on me, kid. Sorry about tonight.”

Tonight would’ve been one of those rare meals where Stiles and her father sat down and ate a home cooked meal they had made together instead of some take-out or leftovers. One of those nights that she could almost feel like her mother was there with them…

Oh well, that’s fine. They both had work do to, and there were other nights. Or at least that’s what she told herself as she ignored the few tears that squeaked out and she rubbed away just as quickly as they fell. It shouldn’t bother her when this happens. It really shouldn’t, because this was life. People had to live it, and things had to happen that got in the way with routines and plans. It really wasn’t that big of a deal, they could just do it tomorrow night. But that thought bothered her a little more, because she knew that these little meals that they made together were getting fewer and fewer in number and more and more infrequent. She’d be shoving off to college soon, and then what?

Actually, it was more likely that’d she’d be dead thanks to magical bullshit, but still. Either way, the thought bothered her. So, she made a cake before she really cracked down and got to work on all murder stuff, and while she had waited for the cake to cool so she could frost it, she worked on some of the translations Deaton and Morrell had left her with. As soon as the cake was frosted though, she took it up to her room so she could eat it in all its triple chocolaty goodness with moose tracks ice cream.

Hey, a girl’s gotta eat. Might as well be awesome shit. Especially since the next couple hours would be filled with her being surrounded by pictures of dead girls’ bodies. And blood splatter. Better not forget the blood splatter.

At 11:43 PM the first alarm she had set for herself to get going went off. She had meant to take a nap before she left for the night, but oh well, she could get that in later. Or something. Or not. It probably wouldn’t be happening. At all. That’s fine.

At least she had finished her wall. Strings and all. It seemed much more organized now. And now that she looked at everything all chaotically organized and labeled on her wall, she realized that the killer was most definitely something else, because no human could do what happened to these girls…It was physically impossible. The police were considering bear attacks at this point! That’s how bad this was getting.

Stiles second alarm for 11:45 went off.

Running her fingers through her hair, Stiles’ swept the shoulder length mess of hair up into a ponytail, remembering that she’d be running soon enough. She was glad she had thought to change earlier. She had some seriously comfortable workout clothes, and she’d probably have forgotten to change if she hadn’t earlier.

Of course, she was totally still wearing her red hoodie.

OK. To be honest, she had just changed from shorts to yoga pants, but damn. That shit was comfortable, and surprisingly comfortable to run in. Her t-shirt and hoodie were big enough to keep her ass covered and cameltoe not a possibility. Yeah. She was seriously concerned about that, but she wasn’t wearing running shorts when it was only 58° F out. Technically, that was fairly warm, but she ran cold. And she was pretty positive that she was just gonna end up sitting on the front porch of the Hale house waiting for the others. Which was fine. Really.

Stiles skipped out the front door and hopped down the steps, knowing she had no neighbors to worry about and that her father was once again at work. The poor man needed a break.

Swinging her pack to her side so she could grab her keychain out of the front pouch, and—

Next thing she knew, she was face first on the ground with a headache that put all others to shame. It made a college kid waking up with their first hangover after St. Paddy’s day look like a fucking picnic.

_Fuck._

She was so fucked.

She never saw him coming.

_Derek was right._

_Derek…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient with me! I'm so sorry for taking so long, but life has been hectic!  
> Anyway, thank you for reading :) And please let me know what you think! Suggestions are welcome :)  
> Thank you!


	11. The Hazard that is Running

_What._

Stiles tried to rub the back of her head, but found her hands to just be too heavy to do that. Too tired. Too much. Too…

“—tupid girl. Running with w—”

_Who the fuck is that._

The gruff male voice was completely unfamiliar. He sounded like he was around Peter’s age, but ten times as crazy. His voice was raspy too, almost like he was a smoker at som—

“—little bitch deserves it too. Must be a fucking hunter. All this shit everywhere. Tracking me. Trying to kill me. Fucking bitch. Threat. Human. Stu—”

_What the fuck is he talking about. I’m not a hunter. I’m not tracking anyone. I don’t even know how to track. Derek refused to teach me. Peter did too. Not my finest moment._

Stiles tried to open her eyes, but the pounding in her skull seemed to grow louder the more she tried. Only glimpsing flashes of light and dark, but dull, like through a filter or clouded lens. To be honest, this was making her start to panic. She couldn’t see. Couldn’t move. And some asshole was talking shit about her.

_Ugh, my head._

Fuck did it hurt. There was definitely something swelling at the back of her head.

“What the hell.” Stiles tried to say, but ended up just slurring the words so they sounded more like “Sasthaell,” which made absolutely no sense. At all.

“Ah, so you’re waking up.”

Stiles tried to move again and her eyes shot open wide, finding the sheet from her bed over her face. Had this asshole raided her room? What the fuck? Honestly? What the hell? What was—

Oh.

_Oh_.

**_Oh fuck_**.

_This is terrible._

Stiles squirmed, trying to pull the sheet off her face, only to find that her hands were bound.

“Oh honey. That’s not gonna work.” The man rasped, as he walked around her room, tossing her things about. Well, “man” was probably less accurate. “Werewolf” was probably the most accurate description at this point. How else would the asshole know about hunters, and be so fucking paranoid. Well, he was a serial killer. So there was that…

“You’re so fuggin’ stupigg,” Stiles grunted, trying to free her hands, or at least get an idea of what was binding them. “Is ‘dis whad you did to all the other gurls? Tied’em up, scared’em ‘til you were satisfied, and decided to kill’em? You sigg fugg!” Stiles tried to snarl, but her slur made it all sound ridiculous. Still, she was so pissed. This asshole had tortured four girls. GIRLS. Not even women. They were teenagers. Children. Too young to really know much about the world. Not enough, that’s for sure.

And she was next.

Aw fuck.

“Yes.” He said, after a long pause. “I did.” He started pulling the sheet off her face. “And I loved it.” He grinned, leering over her.

Stiles tried not to give into fear, because that’s exactly the reaction he was looking for, craving, but the shiver that shot up her spine was unavoidable. Every instinct in her being was screaming! Run! Hide! Fight! Run! Run! Runrunrunrunrunrun!

The creature’s smile widened.

“There it is. That’s what I’m looking for.”

She wanted to scream. Wanted to fight. Wanted to scratch the fucks face off.

But she knew.

She knew what he was.

She knew what he could do. Knew what he’d done.

And…all she could think about was how she really didn’t want her father to find her body like that. Just…an absolute mess. She didn’t want that. She knew he couldn’t handle that. Even if the Pack stepped up and helped him out, she knew if she was brutally murdered, right here, right now, in her bedroom, her father would never come back from that.

So, she head-butted the fucker.

And boy did it hurt like hell, but it got her adrenaline going, and it got the asshole to take a step back. And that was enough.

Stiles jumped up and ran, but not before slamming her bedroom door shut behind her. Normally that wouldn’t matter, but she was pretty sure the fucker forgot to check her room for mountain ash, which was literally around every door and window. She was lucky she hadn’t listened to Derek just yet. Sort of. Not really. Anyway, the buttmunch wouldn’t be getting out unless he clawed or broke through something. It wasn’t much, but it would give her some time.

She stumbled a few times and almost ran into a wall, but was able to push herself back. Her hands were bound with zip ties, but they were in front of her, making them still useful.

Stiles stumbled and tripped down the stairs, falling down the last few steps and landing on her ass. She let out a loud groan but wasn’t about to let that stop her, she’d fallen down more stairs than that at school.

Scrambling to her feet again, Stiles got up again and ran for her front door. Trying really hard to ignore the sounds of cursing and howling coming from upstairs, or the fact that it was the Full Moon, making the bastard more instinctual than normal. Maybe she could use that to her advantage. Maybe.

Stiles gave her front door a rough shove, feeling  slightly grateful that the idiot had left the door ajar. She could worry about that later. When she was for sure alive.

Thinking quickly, Stiles ran for the Jeep, only to realize that, no, her keys were nowhere and sight and it would take too much time, which she didn’t have, to actually search for and find them. Luckily, the car was still unlocked and she still had her bag of fun in the back seat.

Now for the trick of breaking the zip-ties without breaking her wrists.

Stiles bit down on the zip-tie protruding end, pulling and tugging until it was nice and tight. Then, she spread-out her stance so her hips and shoulders matched up.

“Internet, don’t fail me now.”

Locking her jaw, she slammed her forearms down on her hips.

Nothing.

“Fuck.”

She could here the Mega-Butt in her room clawing at her door, he was definitely trying to get out.

“Come on.”

Nothing.

“OK. OK. Just—OK. One more time, and then—” Stiles tightened the tie again, and then slammed her forearms down one last time against her hips.

And was rewarded with a wonderful snapping sound. The zip-tie falling uselessly to her driveway.

“Oh fuck yeah.”

Stiles fumbled for her back seat driver’s side door, struggling with grasping the handle. She could feel her wrists and forearms bruising already. That was definitely gonna super suck.

Grasping the handle and giving the door a rough jerk, she slammed the door open, grabbed her bag, and booked it for the woods.

Crossing the street and through Old Lady Jenkins’ backyard, praying that nobody saw her, and disappearing into the woods.

 

\- - - - -

 

She couldn’t hear the Buttmunch anymore, but that meant absolutely nothing. He could catch up in a matter of seconds.

She needed to think and act quickly, or she was gonna be a bloody mess all over Beacon Hills local forest. She had a Serial Killer/Werewolf/Likely Omega on her ass. That was a whole lot of uncertainty on how powerful he actually was, and absolutely no uncertainty about how dangerous or vicious he would be when he finally caught up.

Stiles glanced back, taking the strap of her bag and swinging it over her shoulder, it was getting too heavy to just carry in her hands, and tried to gage how far in the forest she was already. Well, it was safe to say she recognized absolutely nothing, so probably far. But that could have to do with the fact that it was super-hella-late and she’d never actually ran through the woods at night.

“Thanks Derek, this is totally your fault too,” she huffed, jumping over a log and trying not to tangle her feet in roots.

_Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t wiped out or fallen into a ravine or someth—_

“Shi—”

Stiles’ shoe lodged into some poor small creatures home and sent her tumbling down a semi-steep hill, taking fresh weeds and thorns down with her. Luckily, thanks to the adrenaline and straight up fear, she barely felt any of it.

Coming to a stop in a pile of leaves and some mud, Stiles laid there for a moment to access the damage and catch her breath.

Nothing felt broken.

_Good sign, for now. Might mean I have a sprain, but that’s OK. I can still move with that._

Letting out a few haggard coughs, she rolled over onto her back and stared up at the trees for a moment, seeing the Full Moon just beyond the treetops.

“I want to admire you, but also kinda hate you right about now,” she groaned, pushing herself so she was sitting up.

She took a quick look around, trying to see if maybe she recognized this area more than the last. “Nope, still super unrecognizable and still completely Derek’s flippin’ fault.” Stiles shoved her hands into the mud and pushed herself up until she was standing.

Taking a breath, she adjusted her bag again and started moving, weighing her options here.

He was sure to be tracking her by now, so it was unlikely that she could somehow mask her sent at this point using one of her trusty herb mixes. She was unlikely to be able to ambush him. Although it would be super unexpected, she’d most likely get super screwed over if she tried that. He’d be able to overpower her very easily. If she…

Stiles started running, a plan formulating itself in her mind’s eye.

If she had a flare gun or her phone, it’d be so much less dangerous and at least 1000% easier, but whatever, she could totally do this.

“They better catch on and understand that something’s up, especially by now.” Stiles was almost always early or exactly on time. If she wasn’t fifteen minutes early, she was perfectly on time, it was a habit that she’d kept since her mother had instilled the practice into her. Hopefully someone would notice that something wasn’t quite right.

Hopefully.

Who was she kidding none of them would notice because Scott was a little busy being in his own head all the time, especially with all the apparent shit happening with Allison right around now, but that wasn’t really a pressing matter right now given that she was being chased by a fucking OMEGA.

_FOCUS STILES._

“OK. I got this! C’mon Stiles!”

Stiles skidded down a dirt path and switched directions quickly, trying to leave a path that would hopefully catch the Buttmunch off guard.

She could feel her pulse pounding in her ears and an ache forming in her muscles, but that couldn’t matter. At least not now. Not yet. She needed—

A loud howl that resonated through the woods shook her bones.

That was either super awesome or super terrible.

“Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.”

Stiles fumbled through her bag, snatching out the hammer she’d left in her bag and the spray she’d made. Her fingers glided over her brass knuckles and she hesitated slightly in her movements. She could use them and feel absolutely no guilt, but there was the fact that it was super illegal…and she was the Sheriff’s daughter…and if she was found with those…

Stiles darted behind a tree, leaning against it for a moment to catch her breath and debate with herself for a moment. Toss or not to toss. That is the question. This would be some seriously incriminating shit for herself and the Pack if she was found with this. Sure, that was being a little dark or whatever, but she was only being practical. Chances were, well she didn’t want to get to specific about that train of thought or the actual statistics that could go with that, but her chances weren’t stellar.

“Toss.” Stiles decided after her hands tightened around her hammer and her spray.

Luckily, the hammer she had left was Rhaegal, the less suspicious of the three, and the spray looked like it could simply be pepper spray. So, if she was found, it would simply look like she was protecting herself like any slightly aware teenage girl would.

Sure.

Maybe.

Maybe that wasn’t all so lucky.

Gripping the bags handles, Stiles swung it back and launched it to the side, hearing a satisfying thud in reply. That would have to be good enough. Hopefully the Pack would find it before the Police, but oh well. She’d tried.

Stiles dug her nails into the tree for a moment in hesitation and shoved off again.

She was really starting to feel the strain. And the pain.

“C’mon Stiles, you can do this,” she huffed under her breath.

The deeper in the woods she was when he found her, the better. Either the Pack would find her more easily, or it would be more difficult for the Sheriff to find her body, which hey, was a win-win for sure.

At the sound of another howl, much much closer this time, Stiles reached deep and double-timed it. Thank god she had been running so often lately, obviously it was really paying off.

Just a little more.

Just a little further.

Just—

“Stiles!”

Stiles slid to a stop like she was sliding in for home base in the big game.

“Scott!” she rasped, scrambling in the dirt, trying to gain purchase so she could stand again.

“Stiles! What the he—” Scott began, only to cut himself at noticing her frantically waving hands.

“Don’t even with me right now I’ve go—”

Stiles froze, feeling suddenly queasy and incredibly uncomfortable. “He’s here.”

Even though she could feel terror squirming up her spine and making her nerve shatter, Stiles jumped up and turned around with incredible certainty. She knew Scott wouldn’t be able to handle this on his own, not like this. She was sure, and she was ready.

She just wasn’t expecting an actual fucking wolf to launch itself at her fucking face.

“Sonuvabi—” Stiles let out a cough, the wolf landing on her chest and ribs, making them creak with the weight of him. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” she squeaked out, eyes squinting in pain while trying to block out the shock of there being an actual fucking wolf on top of her.

Acting quickly, she swung up her arm and pressed down on the spray in her hand,  misting the bastard in a mix between three types of Wolfsbane.

Immediately, the dark colored wolf reared back, snarling and clawing at his face, showing off some serious claws and specks of white all over his paws.

Stiles squirmed and shimmied back, dirt getting in her pants in the most uncomfortable way but oh well, that didn’t matter at the moment.

“Scott!” Stiles called out again, swinging her head around, searching for her best friend.

“St-stiles.” Scott responded weakly, half-shifted and struggling for control.

“Oh, shit. The Pack’s nearby right?! They’re somewhere around here, right?!” Stiles got to her feet, unsure of where to go with a Serial Killer squirming in front of her and a half-shifted not-completely-in-control Beta.

Scott didn’t completely respond, seemingly just shaking and eyes flitting between Stiles and the Omega, obviously unsure about who he should be attacking.

“Oh, c’mon!” she shouted, deciding it best to turn around and bolt for it again.

As she did it, she realized it probably wasn’t the best decision. The whole wolf thing and predator and prey thing and the whole holy-shit-she’s-an-idiot-never-run-from-a-wolf.

_Fuck._

_I fucked up._

_I really fucked up._

Stiles started panicking. She was pretty sure she’d left her spray behind and that she was being chased by not one but two Werewolves now. Awesome. She definitely McFuckedUp. This is totally her fault at this point. She couldn’t even blame this one on Derek because she was pretty positive that he’d told her not to ever run when she faced another Werewolf. To hold her ground and fight back.

Yeup.

She fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS CHAPTER HAS TAKEN SO LONG.  
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE COMMENTS AND EVERYTHING. I REALLY APPRECIATE ALL OF IT AND THEY MOTIVATE ME SO MUCH! THANK YOU.


	12. The Hazard that is One's Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens.

Lungs burning.

Muscles burning.

Stiles found herself on another path and started running down it, realizing at this point that it was probably more to her benefit to be out in the open instead of stumbling through the woods, given that it was werewolves that were hot on her trail.

Panic was creeping in for sure, even with her hammer, she knew she didn’t stand a chance against the Buttmunch and Scott. She couldn’t hurt Scott. She couldn’t. Oh shit. She was totally gonna die. Totally dead. Fuck. Her dad was going to be all alone, more so than when her mother died. Oh god, how could she. She’s a horrible human being. Oh no oh shit oh god oh—

“Ugh!” Stiles was slammed to the dirt path. Expecting the worst, she immediately started swinging her hammer about, trying to knock into something. Anything.

The wolf on top of her growled and snarled, snapping its teeth at her hammer until she dropped it outside her reach. She clawed at the dirt, at the wolf, kicking and shoving. This was not happening. Not now. No.

The wolf snapped its jaws and snarled and Stiles could feel a scream bubbling up her throat—

Stiles’ eyes locked onto the wolf’s.

They weren’t wild and unhinged like the Serial Killer’s had been, and they weren’t Scott’s, even when he was Moon crazed she’d know if it was Scott.

“D-d-derek?” Stiles froze up, eyes wide.

The wolf’s eyes softened for a moment.

“Holy shit,” Stiles choked back a sob, “that is so fucking cool! You can turn into an actual wolf! Holy shit, Derek!”

The wolf nuzzled her neck and side, making soothing sounds mixed with soft growls.

Stiles could feel relief flooding her, even if she was shaking uncontrollably.

If Derek was here, then she’d be OK. He’d know what to do. He’d—Fuck he doesn’t know.

“Derek!” Stiles’ body jerked, startling Derek and making his ears flick back and forth, “There’s an Omega, and it’s following me and Scott showed up but he started freaking out and now I’ve been running for a while and I missed the running with the Pack thing and I think I’m missing my shoe but I’m not sure and that Omega’s still out there and I don’t know if him and Scott are fighting or if they were following me and then you found me instead which is why I tried to beat you with a hammer and it wasn’t super affective but that’s probably a good thing right now b—”

Derek growled and licked at her face, from her neck and chin to her cheeks and lips.

“I’m guessing that means you want me to be quiet,” Stiles whispered.

Derek huffed out a response and shook his head.

Stiles made a move to push herself back up, try to stand so she could defend herself, but Derek got all up in her face again. “What? I can’t just lay in the dirt and wait for the prick Derek, he had me tied up in my room, and I saw what he did to those other girls, there is no way in hell I’m not doing something to help take down this asshole. It’s just not happening.”

Stiles placed a hand on Derek’s chest and pushed him back. As calmly and gently as possible, which was honestly quite a feat given everything and the general situation.

Derek made a weird sound in his throat, but Stiles ignored it, honestly unsure of what he meant by it but assuming he was either calling her an idiot or upset that she wasn’t listening and he had no actual way to make her do so.

Stepping away from Derek to pick up her hammer, Stiles got her real first look at Derek as a full out wolf.

Holy fuck.

He was huge.

Like, dear god, how.

Was the other wolf that big? Are all wolves this big or just Weres? Probably just Weres. All the wolves she’d seen in videos had appeared much smaller, and not just because it was on the computer but simply by comparison to the other people around those wolves. Derek’s head came up to her chest. Seriously. It was like he was a fucking Direwolf.

Holy shit.

Too bad he wasn’t all white, because then she could call him Ghost. Ugh. Missed opportunities.

He was all black though. Completely too. Not like the Serial Killer. He’d been more of a brown with white on his paws. Derek was completely black, with the same bright green eyes that he always had.

Was that weird? Didn’t wolves have different color eyes? Weren’t his eyes supposed to turn blue or red or something? Was this because he was more in control? This is so confusing. She was definitely going to have to ask all sorts of questions about this later.

As if Derek sensed that she was filing away questions for later, he turned back to her and circled around her. Not in a predatory way, but more in a protective way, like he was making himself a wall between her and the Buttmunch and whatever else was coming their way.

“Where are the others? I really don’t think you should be all on your o—”

Derek crashed into her legs and sent her sprawling, growling and snarling and snapping his jaws the whole time.

“Never mind, I’m gonna go ahead and guess that our problem has already arrived.”

Stiles flitted her gaze about, searching for wherever the wolf could possibly come from. She was really starting to regret the fact that she had ran out onto a path. She felt so exposed now. Damn. _Well, notes for next time then_. _If there’s gonna be a next time…_

Stiles pushed herself back up again, despite Derek’s paws stepping across her legs and stomach. She needed to be able to fight, and to fight she needed to be able to see, and to see she needed to get out from under Derek, and —

HOLY SHIT.

SO, the Serial Killer dude, was easily as big as Derek. Well, they were similar in size when you factored in muscle and height and everything. Basically, the other dude was definitely taller than Derek, that thing was easily past her chest.  Wow.

Stiles could feel her nerves stretching, especially since neither wolf had done anything yet. They were just growling and staring at each other, which didn’t seem like a good sign. If anything, it seemed like it meant things were going to get much worse than if they had started fighting immediately.

The Omega seemed to recognize that Derek was an Alpha, and was debating whether or not his prey was worth fighting an Alpha over for. If it won, he’d been an Alpha, so the risk and gain were both equally high, but if he did nothing or if he lost, well, he’d most surely die if either happened.

Stiles could feel the tension building like when pulling a rubber band, waiting for that moment when it would break.

And just like with pulling a rubber band too far, the two snapped into action at the same time, leaving her standing there, terrified and unsure if she was going to feel the bite that came with a rubber band’s sudden snap.

Stiles shook her head.

She needed to help. Needed to focus.

This asshole had murdered so many young girls simply for sport. He enjoyed their pain and reveled in their fear. He’d killed willingly and enjoyed it, not like the Moon craze that Scott and the others go through, no, this guy had decided and gone out of his way to kill these young women. And he had been ready to do the same to Stiles.

Stiles shivered, but shook off the thought. He hadn’t gotten her yet, and she was going to make sure he never got anyone again.

Stiles adjusted her hammer in her hands, unsure of when she had actually picked it up.

Derek would bounce back and forth from pining the other wolf and trying to clamp his jaws on his throat to jumping away to avoid the other wolf clawing at his belly. There were moving so fast, it was hard to tell who really had the upper hand. Sometimes she forgot how inexperienced Derek really was in the grand scheme of things. He was raised in a Pack, sure, but he didn’t really grow up with that thanks to Kate. He had to learn everything from his older sister Laura, and she’d been very young when they’d lost the rest of their family, too. Stiles made a note to herself in the back of her mind to talk to Peter. She may hate the fuck, but he would have so surely useful information on Derek that would help with him in general.

Stiles tried to focus back in on the fight. She was getting the feeling of a pounding headache though, and that made it much harder than usual to focus, maybe she was just disoriented.

Stiles watched the two fight as carefully as she could, she knew she couldn’t intervene between Derek and the killer, there was too high a chance of her missing and hitting Derek instead of the bad guy, and it would have really hurt Derek’s wolf-man pride. Dealing with a pride wounded Derek was definitely not on her to-do list, so she watched, because what else could she do as two badass mythical creature powerhouses swiped claws into each other and bit out chunks of each other’s fur.

She was a teenage girl, in a mess with supernatural creatures that wanted to kill her, and there was nothing she could do to help.

If that wasn’t horrifyingly eye opening, she didn’t know what else was.

\- - - - -

Watching Derek utterly destroy another creature was kind of terrifying but also kind of weirdly hot. Well, she wasn’t really ready to jump him over it, but she was pretty damn impressed but also terrified.

Basically horny but terrified.

That didn’t really matter though, because now she had to deal with a half-dead Werewolf and possibly somehow explain how the fuck all of this happened in human terms to her father. Yeah, this was fucking great.

A part of her was hoping that Derek would just take care of this and she didn’t have to bother explaining this Omega to her father, but the other part of her knew that was wrong. That she shouldn’t wish for this man to die, even if he seemed like less than a man from how he acted and what he’d done.

He’d killed several girls, and she’d been next. That should probably scare her more than it did, but really it just made her mad. Mad that she could so easily be a victim.

Stiles pressed her hands down on one of the rather nasty gashes on Derek’s underbelly.

She should probably call the Vet so he could look at both Derek and the other wolf, but she was busy with Derek’s wounds for one, and she was kind of hoping she could just wait for the other guy to be dead before she made that call.

“Stiles, holy shit.”

Stiles didn’t even spare Boyd a glance when he came up next to her, glancing in between Derek, herself, and the other wolf.

“I know.”

“What the hell happened?!”

“That’s a long story that deserves to be told, but probably after Derek heals and we take care of the other asshole over there.”

Boyd nodded, his eyes flashing gold for a moment. Stiles found it pretty hilarious that it was Boyd that was the calmest on a Full Moon. It made perfect sense, it really did, but it was funny that even in this form, he wouldn’t let himself lose control. That was rather admirable if she thought about it, but she was a little dizzy, and her head was really pounding.

“Can you call the Vet?”

“In case you didn’t notice, I don’t exactly have a phone on me,” Boyd muttered, sounding somewhere between annoyed and embarrassed.

Stiles glanced over at him and—Oh. Yeah. Not having cloths would explain that probably, yeah. Damn. Werewolves really didn’t have that whole body issue thing did they? Well there was that, being attractive and all or whatever would explain that, but it was like none of them really felt any self-consciousness about this sort of shit. Like being naked was so normal, which, yeah sure, whatever, but really?! She’d shower with her cloths on if she could!

“Yeah, OK, didn’t notice the whole no pants thing until now, but yeah that explains a lot.” Stiles tried really hard not to blush, she really did, but damn.

Boyd gave a helpless shrug, “When we transform into wolves we have to either ruin our cloths or strip down. I’d prefer to not have to buy new cloths every time this happens, so, yeah.”

Stiles nodded her head, “Yeah, makes sense, mmhmm, must make for a lot of awkward situations.” Stiles cleared her throat and flexed her hands around Derek’s wound again. She could feel it healing, but there was still a lot of damage. She didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of removing her hands just yet.

“OK, so, I guess I’m the only one with a phone right now? Maybe? It’s either in one of my pockets or back at my Jeep.”

Boyd stared at her for a moment. “Are you asking me to get it?”

“Well, duh. I’m kind of wrist deep in Alpha guts right now if you didn’t fucking notice,” Stiles snapped, her head pounding more fiercely.

“And how exactly do you expect me to do that?”

“Just search my pockets.”

Boyd out right laughed, “Yeah, uh, Stiles, as you so eloquently put it, you’re wrist deep in Alpha guts, there is no way in hell I am going near you.”

Stiles glanced between her hands and Derek’s wound, to Boyd and Derek.

“Um, what?”

“He’s the Alpha of my Pack Stiles. I’m a Beta with a hurt Alpha. I can either protect him while he heals or go in for the kill. Trust me, especially with him being in his wolf form, he will not react well to me stepping closer,” Boyd shook his head, laughing it off as if Stiles was the dumbest idiot in the world, “Plus, you being in the middle definitely wouldn’t help matters.”

Derek growled low and loudly, Stiles ignored it completely and shook her head again, feeling confused and dizzy.

“Whatever, I’m pretty sure I don’t have my phone on me anyway, so there’s no point in me even checking for it. I think I remember leaving it in my Jeep earlier, but I’m not sure.”

“OK, when one of the others catch up, I’ll run and grab it,” Boyd nodded, training his eyes on the enemy wolf. “For now, it’s best that I sit here and watch out for you and keep an eye on our little friend over there.”

“Trust me, he is not a friend,” Stiles muttered, trying to concentrate on her hands and Derek.

Boyd made a sound in his throat, making it clear he wanted more information. “Later,” Stiles mumbled, “I’m too tired to explain all this right now.”

Boyd nodded, accepting this for the moment. Stiles knew he’d get answers later.

“Just don’t let him move, and if he looks like he’s dying, go ahead and let him.”

Boyd nodded again. God Stiles loved Boyd. He knew when to talk and when to shut the fuck up and that was a seriously fantastic trait. Sometimes she wished she had that trait. It’d be easier if she knew when to shut the fuck up instead of always running her mouth and getting herself into trouble.

God her head fucking hurt.

It really was pounding, throbbing, numbing, hell.

Shit, she probably had a concussion. That would explain the dizziness and the confusion, f—

“You have a what?”

Stiles had most definitely not noticed when Isaac had shown up, but he was now all up in her space.

“Nothing. I think I’m missing my shoe actually…”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that,” Isaac moved closer, his eyes wide with panic.

“No I haven’t. I just finished talking to Boyd about fuckhead over there and letting him die,” Stiles gestured behind her and to her side, pointing to the killer and where Boyd had just been.

“Boyd left a good five minutes ago for your phone Stiles.”

“Fuck, I think I have a concussion.”

With how Isaac and Derek reacted you’d think she just told them she had a life ending disease and she was dying right this second. Damn.

Derek was up and pacing in his wolf form. He looked mostly healed now, so he could change back soon, but Isaac was waving his hands around her helplessly like he wanted to help but really didn’t know how and was talking gibberish. Or maybe it was only gibberish to her, because Boyd came running onto the path with Erica and Peter behind him, saying something about Jackson coming with a car and Scott still running around.

Why was Scott running around? Why was Jackson getting a car, they could all just walk back to Derek’s, it was close enough. Why was—

“—tiles! Stiles!? Are you OK, can you hear me?! Why aren’t you responding?! Are you bleeding?! We need a doctor!” Derek scooped Stiles up into his arms, cradling her to his chest.

Stiles eyes moved slowly to meet Derek’s like sludge. “Derek, bro, we need to all just, take a-a step back here and calm down. I might have a concussion, but it’s not that big a deal. We’ll be fine, I just need to take some meds and stay awakes for a while. We’re good. It might just be because I’m tired to be honest. Let’s just take care of asshat overs there a—”

“Stiles you really don’t look good honey, I think we better get you to McCall’s mom or to the Vet.” Jackson came up next to her, sounding and looking extremely alarmed.

“Really guys, I think I’m fine. I think th—OK, after what happened with Boyd I’m nearly a hundred percent sure that Derek’s naked right now, so someone needs to pick me up and set me down because this is fucking ridiculous. Shouldn’t you still be in wolf form Derek? Isn’t transforming a bad thing or something? Jesus.”

Jackson slowly took Stiles from Derek’s grasp, obviously trying not to alarm his Alpha.

“I mean really Jax bro, I’m fine. I’ve had tons of concussions because of lacrosse and you guys forgetting I’m a little ole human. I think I’d know if I had one.”

Stiles watched Jackson grimace and glance to the rest of the Pack. She could feel all of their anxiety, but it was really unnecessary. She was probably just tired. She’d been awake for a while.

“I’ll take her home, you guys take care of the Omega.” Jackson adjusted Stiles in his grip as he spoke to Boyd. He knew his Alpha was in no position to give orders or take care of anyone right now, so he could do this. Especially since McCall was nowhere to be fucking found.

“I don’t need—I don’t—I don’t need—” Stiles watched as the world spun around her. “OK, maybe I do.”

Jackson nodded, looking back to Derek.

“Take her home. Get her cleaned up.”

“Isaac,” Derek called, Isaac tried to look like he wasn’t completely wounded at the idea of Stiles going somewhere he wasn’t when she was wounded, “go with them.”

Isaac jumped up and ran after Jackson who was setting Stiles in the car already.

Stiles couldn’t help but feel strange as she watched the expression on Derek’s face slip from wounded to absolutely miserable. A part of her tried to ignore the fact that it felt like it should be Derek taking her home, but she knew he needed to be with his Pack, and she really was fine.

She was fine.

She would be fine.

She was only human.

And there were supernatural creatures killing themselves and each other all around her.

And she couldn’t even protect herself.

\- - - - -

Two hours later, and Stiles was set up in her living room, showered, ankle wrapped up, and all the appropriate measures taken in case she did have a concussion.

When they pulled up to her house and she’d finally seen the time, she knew Scott’s mom was probably sleeping, given that it was 3AM, and really didn’t feel like waking her. Of course, Jackson and Isaac made her promise that if they thought she was getting worse, they’d be dragging her to the McCall household, whether she liked it or not.

Still, they did a pretty good job of helping her out and doctoring. It was kind of adorable. Especially since Jackson had never really been like that with her.

He’d been kind of hilarious, checking for cuts and putting Neosporin and a Band-Aid on every single one he found. Isaac had been more for moral support, holding her hand while she got her ankle prodded at and wrapped and helping her mostly out of her cloths so she could shower.

It’d been awkward though, when Jackson breached the subject of Derek. He and Isaac argued over whether or not he should be there with Stiles. Jackson said he should’ve been there, right with Stiles as soon as the situation with the Omega had been taken care of. Isaac disagreed. He claimed they were enough, that Derek was needed where he was and he was enough to keep Stiles safe.

That had been considerably more awkward, because Jackson had taken that the wrong way and made Isaac embarrassed. Isaac had even explained that Jackson had seemed like he wanted to leave and he was just telling him he could handle Stiles alone if need be.

That seemed to seal Stiles fate, because for the rest of the time that either had been awake, they’d both been glued to her side.

It was adorable, but also incredibly uncomfortable.

Stiles burrowed into the blankets that were swaddled around her on the couch, trying to get comfortable so she could finally sleep.

Of course that had to be the point where she remembered that she had not only touched naked Derek Hale chest, but that there was probably an extremely incriminating crime scene happening in her drive way and in her bedroom.

“Fuuuuck,” she groaned, trying to pull the blankets off so she could go clean up the mess that had been caused by the Omega.

As she pulled back the second blanket, one her mother had referred to as their “sick blanky,” Isaac started to stir next to her.

“Shit, um, shh, go back to sleep, were fine. Don’t worry, I’m just gonna go clean. No intruders to w—”

“Well, I wouldn’t say no intruders.”

Stiles really tried not to jump, she did, but when Derek said that literally right behind her, his breath fanning over her neck and everything, it kind of scared the shit out of her, especially considering what had happened early in the night.

“I really think you should do that less, unless you want me to die from heart palpitations,” Stiles hissed, not wanting to wake Jackson or Isaac, who looked seriously adorable while sleeping. That wasn’t all that big of a surprise, but really? How could badass Jackson Whittemore look like a fucking puppy while sleeping? How was that OK? Isaac made since, that was a given, also something she was aware of, but still. How. Must be a Werewolf thing.

Derek shook his head and held back a chuckle. She could tell because his nose scrunched up a little and he shook his head and only the one side of his mouth quirked up and hoLY FUCK SHE WAS ANALYZING THIS TOO MUCH.

“Go back to sleep Stiles, I just came by to check in on you,” Derek made a move to leave after and awkwardly long amount of time of staring at Stiles, as if staring at her could tell him all of her ailments, which, it probably fucking could if she thought about it.

“I can’t I have to clean up all the mess from the Omega crashing my house.”

“What mess?” Derek tensed up, shoulders hunching and face doing that growly thing.

“Well, he kind of knocked me out in my driveway and then dragged me into my room, so I’m sure there’s at least a bag of my shit outside if not a serious fucking mess in my room from him.”

Derek took a couple calming breaths, breathing really deeply, and that really shouldn’t have been a bit of a turn on but dammit if it wasn’t.

“There’s nothing of yours laying around outside, so the idiots must have at least cleaned that up, but I’ll check your room so that there Sheriff doesn’t have any surprises waiting for him.”

“Ummm,” Stiles hesitated, Derek was already half way up the fucking stairs, but when he saw the wreckage that was surely her room and then ended up stuck in it because of the barriers she put up, he would definitely be super fucking pissed off about it.

“You kinda can’t go in there right?”

That was obviously not the right thing to say because he acted like she just shot a puppy in front of him while laughing. Fuck.

“No, no, no, Derek, what I mean is, I still haven’t taken out the wolfsbane and shit that made the barriers around my room and stuff.”

“You fucking what.”

Stiles winced, “I haven’t had a chance to get around to that yet?”

Derek’s chest heaved, yeah he was definitely trying to hold something back.

“It’s OK, I’ll take it down tomorrow, I just hav—”

“So what you’re saying is,” Derek talked loudly over her, waking up both Jackson and Isaac, “that if that fucker had kept you in your room, we wouldn’t have been able to get inside to help you?”

“Well uh—”

“And I fucking told you that the smell of wolfsbane would bring trouble, and I was right! I bet that was how he found you. No wonder your house doesn’t smell right at all! Jesus Stiles. You could’ve died, and you didn’t even listen to me! Goddammit!”

Derek made fists and shook them in front of him, unsure of what exactly to do with them. He wanted to take them out on something, that was easy to tell, but Stiles really wasn’t sure what or why.

“But I’m fine De—”

“Stop.”

“Derek, I—”

“Fucking stop.”

Derek walked off in a huff, but instead of walking out of her house, like she expected, he walked into her kitchen. _What in the actual fuck?_

“What’s his problem?” Stiles gestured after Derek, looking lost to Isaac and Jackson.

“I think he was afraid that you were in harm’s way and he hadn’t done anything to prevent that? I’m honestly not sure, OK. I’m really tired, and I don’t understand Derek brain.” Jackson snatched a pillow from behind Isaac and got himself comfortable again.

“Well that wasn’t really fucking helpful,” Stiles sighed and looked to Isaac for help, but he only shrugged.

“Ugh! Fuck it. I’m gonna go fix my room, do whatever.”

\- - - - -

Twenty minutes later and Stiles realized she’d probably done the barrier thing wrong, because it had been difficult for the Omega to get through, hell, she’d heard the crashing sound of him getting through and coming after her, but the only damage that seemed to have been done was the lock on her window was now seriously broken and she had a demolished lamp next to her bed.

Maybe it didn’t work correctly because he was inside the barrier trying to break out? Not trying to break in? It was very confusing, but easy to remedy. She simply removed the barrier, threw out the lamp, and accepted that she would never have privacy from Werewolves ever again in her life time.

“I guess I deserved that.”

“Deserved what?”

“Jesus—what part of you’re gonna fucking kill me did you not understand?”

“Deserved what?”

“The lock on my window is broken, now I won’t be able to keep any of you fuckers out of my room.”

“Yeah, you did kind of deserve that.”

Stiles sighed and fell back onto her freshly made bed.

“So, what happened to the Omega?”

When Derek didn’t answer right away Stiles pulled herself up so she was sitting with her legs crossed in the middle of her bed. “Derek?”

“I took care of it,” Derek looked her in the eye for a moment before glancing away, “like I should have a couple weeks ago.”

After a moment, Stiles sighed and leaned forward. “Well, did you know there was an Omega running around killing girls?”

“No!” Derek snarled, stepping forward, slight fangs peeking out over his bottom lip.

“Then there’s no reason to feel so guilty. I knew there were murders happening all over town and was beginning to think that they were caused by some mythical creature of some sort, but I didn’t want to bother telling the Pack until I was more sure.”

Stiles hesitated for a moment, playing with the hems of her long sleeved shirt so that she kept covering and uncovering her hands. “I was kind of hoping I could convince myself it wasn’t some supernatural creature killing things, but I was wrong, and a bunch of girls are dead now because of it.”

“Stiles,” Derek began, walking towards her until his knees bumped her bed, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because this was my worry with my Dad, not a worry for the Pack, especially with the Alphas running around.”

“No. How many times do I have to keep telling you this?” Derek leaned forward and gently grasped her face, “This is your Pack too. Your problems are our problems. Your problems are my problems, Stiles. I’m here for you, OK.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the Alpha, I get it.”

Derek let out a low growl, which Stiles inexplicably ignored. “I should’ve known there was an Omega on my territory, and I should’ve known that you were dealing with something that you needed the Pack’s help with. Please stop keeping us at arm’s length.”

Stiles bit back the harsh response that told her he was doing the same to her, because that was different. That was a different feeling entirely that most definitely would not be discussed with or shared to the highly attractive Alpha dude.

“OK. I will keep that in mind.”

“Good, now, get some rest Stiles.”

Stiles rolled her eyes, “Aye, aye, Captain.”

Derek chuckled, shutting the lights off in her room as he walked out, “Smartass.”

“You know it!”

For a second she thought about telling Derek to kick out Jackson and Isaac so that they weren’t a surprise for her father when he got home, but in all honesty, she felt much safer with them downstairs, even if Derek had said that he’d handled the Omega, she could feel that she wouldn’t be sleeping quite right for a long while to come.

Her list of traumatizing nightmares just kept getting longer and longer these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG YOU LOVELY MAJESTIC PEOPLE I LOVE YOU.


End file.
